Remember Tomorrow
by TMBlue
Summary: COMPLETE! 2010 R/Hr Big Bang Challenge entry: Hermione is dead. Ron is falling apart, unable to live without her. All that's left is a chance... to bring her back.
1. Chapter 1

**Remember Tomorrow**

_**A/N:** Thanks so, so much to my incredible beta, **emmacmf**! This was my first beta'ed story, actually! Twas lovely to have her :) Also, a big thank you to **urbanmama1 **for cheering me on! This story was posted last month for the **R/Hr Big Bang Challenge** on **LiveJournal**. There is now a fantastic website devoted to the stories that were submitted, and if you check out that site, you'll also be able to see the fabulous art that was drawn for my story! I'll be posting one chapter a day of the story on here as well if you want to follow it that way, and I'd love some reviews here or there, whichever you prefer, so I can know what everyone thinks ;) It is a completed story, in case anyone was concerned about my mental health, posting yet another fic on here! hah  
_

_The website is **rhrlove . com** (remove spaces), and there are some great works of fiction and art over there to check out! Lot and lots of words of awesome to consume, as the minimum word count was 15,000 for an entry!_

_Three quick recommendations for stories that I read so far from the Challenge... and adored! First, **shocolate**'s "A Terrible Disclosure". A thousand points to anyone who can figure out what she is referencing in this story! LOVE it. Second, **wordsmithsonian**'s "The Bet". Fabulous writing as usual. And finally, but most certainly not least, **mugglemama**'s "Now What?". All fantastic reads full of R/Hr love :) I haven't finished perusing the rest of the stories, but I'm sure the others are all equally lovely! xx  
_

**Chapter 1**

**August 15, 1998**

A young wizard sits in the middle of a silent flat. In one hand he holds a bottle, half empty, and in the other, a thin piece of material, perhaps a scarf or a torn bit of a curtain. If you looked into his eyes, you'd see an 18 year old man. But his features tell a different story - his shaggy ginger hair, thick beard, the scars up and down his arms... he could be twice his real age.

Harry Potter visits him every single day. He even offered to come and live with him in this quiet, deserted flat. But he was turned down and blankly asked to leave. He did as he was instructed only because he knows his best friend so well, understands what he needs better than anyone else ever could. Well, almost anyone...

Before him now, Ron has two choices. He can remain here in solitude, or move forward down the road that stretches out endlessly in front of him. But these days he cannot use his legs the way he used to, or he believes that he cannot. It would take too much effort to travel the distance necessary to see around the next curve, to know what's coming. And he doesn't care anyway.

Today he sits without a sound, almost too quiet to be alive. A pop resounds behind him but he doesn't even flinch. His wand lies useless on the floor to his right, and he does not reach for it, no sign that he has anything to fear. Maybe he has become immune to such emotional attachments to life as fear and paranoia. And after all, he reasons, who has the ability to Apparate directly into _her _flat? Two people in the world. Here he sits, one of those people. He's never left... and he never will. He knows, by elimination, that this new visitor must be Harry... without even having to see him.

Another pop sounds out quite a bit louder than the first, and in front of Ron now, Harry appears, a familiar crease running across his scarred forehead, a worry that Ron has labeled as pity and has decided against acknowledging anymore. It never did any good to ask Harry to wipe it away, to stop looking at Ron that way when all Ron did, day in and out, was to give Harry a reason to look at him exactly like that. But Ron could not change from the inside, could not transform his soul back into what it once was, because now... the one piece that had held it all together, kept it from breaking and scattering uselessly, was gone forever...

Ron took a moment to wonder why Harry would have Apparated a second time simply to cross a room. But then things like these minute details never really made it past vague curiosity. He didn't have room for them anymore.

"Ron..." Harry said before clearing his throat at the sound his voice made, something stuck between a grunt and a groan.

Ron's lack of acknowledgment was customary, so Harry continued as if talking to a wall.

"Your parents are coming over. They're worried. I told them not to..."

Ron moved very slightly in his chair, a clink of the glass bottle in his hand against the rough wood of the rickety chair he sat in.

"But... I don't really know what to do. Maybe I should stay tonight, at least until they've gone. I'd say we could have a drink, you know, try to talk, but..."

Harry sighed and tried to look into Ron's eyes, but they seemed, as always, so unfocused and distant.

"...looks like you've already had plenty."

Ron cleared his throat, and Harry froze, his body rigid, at attention, eyes widening ever so slightly. This was it. He might hear Ron's voice today... It had been so long, so very long since he had last spoken. Was it a week... or could it have been two? Days ran together, nights flowing into them freely, without warning. The sun would disappear before either of them had the chance to see it sometimes.

But the moment passed. Silence fell once more. The tick of the old clock that used to fill these moments had fallen silent as well. Perhaps it was neglect, something never tended to. But it had only been a few months. And yet somehow, it seemed that everything around them had died, turned old and dusty before their eyes. There had once been life here, happiness. Where was it now? Where could it be hiding? In a grave buried deep underground? In a soul drifting through... whatever came next... waiting to be reunited with its partner?

Harry visually gave up on Ron, gave up on the idea that he might be offered a few words to cling to. It was, after all, a pain he also felt, not just in Ron's silence, but in his own heart as well. He could not deny the empty space that was left by an absence so huge, so vast, that he wasn't even sure how it had fit inside his heart to begin with. And he knew his best friend, knew Ron so well. If this was Harry's pain, he could not imagine what it must be like for-

"When?"

Harry flinched, so startled by the sound. Had it really come from the man before him?

"Wh-what?" Harry asked in a whisper, though he had heard the word quite plainly, even as it had been choked and forced out of the dry lips and unused throat that had uttered it.

"When? When are they coming?" Ron asked, blinking as he shifted in his chair again, causing several strands of his unkempt ginger hair to limply fall into his eyes.

"Uh..." Harry mumbled, staring down at Ron, waiting, hoping and praying that he'd look up, just one glance... one moment to see into his deep blue eyes, so sad and tormented. It was a torture that Harry longed for, craved. But it did not come. Not today. "I... I think they were planning to bring dinner. Maybe... seven?"

Ron nodded, his fingers weaving through the thin material in his left hand as he closed his eyes.

"I'm not leaving the flat," Ron said softly.

"I know that," and Harry sat in the arm chair that had been pushed back against the wall opposite from Ron. "And no one says you have to."

Ron allowed the bottle in his right hand to touch the floor, and he loosened his grip on it. It swayed, threatening to tip over, but at the last moment, it stopped, caught its balance, and remained upright against the leg of Ron's chair. He stretched out his legs, his bare feet moving smoothly across the carpet, and he tilted his head back, his eyes moving into shadow now.

Harry glanced at his watch. Two more hours before they'd probably arrive. His heart beat faster just thinking of it, his nerves on high alert.

"It'll be fine," Harry muttered, more to himself than to Ron. Besides, the word 'fine' no longer fit into Ron's dictionary anyway. And if he was being honest with himself, Harry wondered if it ever would again...

* * *

Harry glanced at his watch moments before the expected knock on the door made them both flinch. Gathering himself, Harry stood from the arm chair he had been silently occupying for the last two hours and opened the door with a creak.

"Harry," Ginny muttered as she entered the flat first.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley followed very cautiously behind Ginny, Mrs. Weasley clinging to her husband's arm, a bit shaken and visibly nervous as she stepped into the dark, cold living room, her eyes searching for her son. When she located him, it was with great effort that she managed to partially hold back the gasp that overtook her. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him since... since _it _had happened. She had tried so many times to visit. But he had shut them out. And she had given him the time and the space he needed and requested.

But it was over now. He had had his chance to be alone. Now she was here to bring him back to life, or at least to give him comfort. After all, she knew he needed her now. He had to, didn't he? He was her son after all.

But as she approached him, he closed his eyes, shutting her out as he had done before. And something snapped inside her, something bordering on anger but stemming from rejection and pain, from his fear and revulsion...

"Ron, look at me," she demanded sternly. "Ron."

He glanced up at her, his fist clenching stiffly around the material in his left hand. Her eyes flicked to the balled up scrap, to his knuckles turning white as he held on as tightly as he could.

"Come to tell me it's time to leave?" Ron asked, a hint of disdain in his voice.

"Not exactly," Mrs. Weasley said slowly, shocked at the roughness in her son's voice.

"I don't have anything to say," Ron admitted in a low groan, his words running together and making it difficult to understand him.

"You don't really have to talk," Ginny said as she moved to stand next to her mother. "We're just worried about you."

"We want to help you, Ron," Mrs. Weasley said gently as she reached out a hand towards him.

"Help me with what?" Ron asked, laughter in his cold voice.

"To... to get better," trembled Mrs. Weasley, withdrawing her hand.

"Oh?" Ron asked a bit sarcastically, roughly, meeting his mother's eyes now.

And she saw all of his unshed tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he squinted in an attempt to keep them where they were, safely tucked away inside...

"Can you bring her back?" Ron whispered.

An involuntary sob escaped Mrs. Weasley at her son's words. He had said exactly what everyone was dreading to discuss, the fact that no matter how long he sat here, no matter how much pain he felt, it could never be eased by a real solution. Time was the only healer now. Time and... well, in his family's mind, comfort and acceptance. But bitterly, Ron was never planning on resorting to any of those things.

"Ron, please come home with us," Mrs. Weasley half sobbed as she knelt in front of Ron. He glared back at her as angry tears finally fell from the corners of his eyes.

"And leave her flat to rot?" Ron growled. "I told you before, I'm not coming with you. You can't change my mind."

Ginny took a step back from Ron and reached for Harry's hand. He took it surreptitiously, but it didn't matter. Ron saw them. He always did. His eyes narrowed a fraction as his fist clenched tightly once more around the material he held.

"Ron," Mr. Weasley tried, stepping up behind his wife. "You've got to try to move on-"

"Don't even _say _it!" Ron interrupted, standing abruptly and running a hasty hand through his hair.

"We're trying to help you!" Mrs. Weasley cried as she stood too, facing her son, her cheeks flushed with frustration.

"But I haven't asked for your help, have I!" Ron shouted, his hair falling wildly into his face again. He brushed it away with a shaky hand.

"You don't have to ask," Mr. Weasley said softly. "We're your parents. Of course we want the best for y-"

"The best for me?" Ron interrupted. "I'll tell you what's best. Leave me here and let me imagine that she's not gone." Ron's voice cracked as he struggled to continue. "Let me pretend like it's all going to be alright. When you show up, when you make me face it, then it's real. I can't let it be real..." Tears cascaded down Ron's face as he stood with his family and Harry before him. They all looked back at him with that... _pity_... that he had come to despise so thoroughly.

"It's not healthy or sane for you to pretend..." Mrs. Weasley began after a long moment. "We're... we're so sorry for what happened, truly we are, but you've got to _try_, Ron."

Ron took a slow step back from his family, his eyes on the carpet now. He could hear them, but they knew he wasn't really listening.

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley continued, walking cautiously closer to him, "we... we have had so many traumas in our lives... F-Fred and now... now Hermione."

Ron choked on a breath at the sound of her name, sucking in oxygen as he tried to stifle his sobs.

"I know how you feel," Mrs. Weasley added, her own eyes full of tears now.

Ron shook his head and raised his eyes to his mother's.

"No. No you don't know how I feel."

"Of course I do, Ron," she said. "I l-lost a son... You l-lost a brother... We're in this together. And now one of your _best friends_..."

"She wasn't just my _friend_!" Ron shouted angrily, bringing to the surface a question that his family had vowed never to ask. But he could sense them all watching him now, waiting to see what else he would reveal... "This is different! You want to know how I feel?" he continued harshly. "Crawl inside my head then."

"We've all lost people we loved, Ron!" Mrs. Weasley cried, an edge to her voice now, defending her feelings against what Ron was implying. "We _do _know how it feels! What makes this any different for you than it's been for everyone? But we have to pick up the pieces and put them together and live!"

Ron grinned at her words, the sick and horrifying grin of a person who had forgotten how to do it properly...

"When she died... well, I might as well have joined her in her grave," Ron said, his voice oddly steady.

His mother began to shake at his words and his father moved to stand directly behind her, clutching her arms for support.

"I feel completely empty," Ron continued, "but I figured out why. I was only living for her. My whole purpose was her. It's funny because I never knew how much I needed her, how much I b-belonged to her... before..."

"Please..." Mrs. Weasley begged, clueless now as to what she could really do to fix this...

"I don't belong here," Ron said as he slowly moved back to his chair, studying it almost lovingly before sitting in it again gingerly.

"You're right. You don't belong here," Mrs. Weasley said, a note of hope in her voice. "You belong at home with us."

"No, that's not what I mean," Ron said softly, moving the material in his left hand to his lap, touching it gently with both hands now. "I don't belong... alive."

Mrs. Weasley covered her face with her hands to muffle her cries.

"Unless she comes _back_..." Ron mumbled, but they were all too occupied now with calming down Mrs. Weasley to be able to hear him... everyone but Harry.

Harry's gaze never left Ron's slumped form, distant eyes cast down to the material in his lap... spilled bottle of mead where it had rolled under his chair, its former contents now soaking through the carpet.

Harry moved slowly closer, closer... and finally, when he stepped into Ron's shadow, Ron raised his head. The moment their eyes met, Harry _knew_...

Harry turned around quickly and took Ginny's arm.

"You should go," Harry said softly to them all. "He'll be okay. I'll stay with him all night. Nothing's going to happen..." he continued, hoping to reassure Mrs. Weasley as they all slowly made their way to the door. "I promise I'll take care of him," Harry added, nodding as they all moved into the hallway and out of Ron's view... finally.

"Thank you," Mr. Weasley muttered, and with a shuffle and a series of pops, they had gone.

Harry shut the door with a slam and spun instantly around to face Ron, his eyes wide with fear.

"Tell me you aren't _really_..." Harry pleaded, searching Ron's face for a sign.

Harry rushed towards Ron, stopping a few feet from him and standing over him, his mouth slightly open from shock.

"Answer me," Harry demanded.

"What are you on about, Harry?" Ron mumbled.

"Cut the bullshit, Ron!" Harry shouted. "I'm not going to shut up until you give me a straight answer, and you know _damn _well what I'm asking you!"

Ron's eyes remained cast down towards his lap for an agonizing few seconds before he finally spoke...

"What do you want me to say, Harry?"

"That you aren't thinking what I think you're thinking..."

Ron stood slowly, tightening his grip on the material still in his hand and brushing past Harry. He began to pace the living room, trembling visibly as he spoke seemingly to no one.

"They all expect me to accept this. She's _gone _and I have to _live _with it. Well, I can't do that. I can't. So I don't see that I really have a choice. I wish I could explain it, describe it... how it feels."

Harry swallowed thickly, watching Ron with wide eyes as he continued to pace.

"But you know I'm not good at that... I don't know how to say it... I don't know the right words..."

Harry remained speechless, his throat dry, hands awkwardly limp at his sides. Ron passed by him again, nearly brushing shoulders with him.

"What would it be like," Ron continued softly as he slowed to a stop in front of the fireplace, looking in at the cool, dead coals within, "to live forever?"

"What?" Harry managed to choke out, confused and half terrified at what Ron would say next.

"_He _wanted it, didn't he," said Ron, his voice quiet and distant.

"Who?" Harry asked, though he suspected the horrifying answer to his own question before he asked it.

"You know... _Voldemort_."

Hearing Ron say the name wasn't the most upsetting thing about this statement... because underneath it lay a truth, a connection that Harry had seen only once before between Ron and Voldemort... only that one night, the lowest and most beautiful night in a forest not so long ago... the night of the silver doe, the night of the sword of Gryffindor... and the night Ron's greatest fears finally surfaced, right there so Harry could see them.

Harry had looked back on that night as a step forward, a resolution to an insecurity that stretched back as far as Harry could remember, as long as he had known Ron perhaps, though Harry's guilt at having been too occupied with himself half the time to notice it played heavily on his conscience. But now, a dark shadow passed over Harry's memory, a shadow that threatened to undo all the good that had been built that night, the moment when he felt that he and Ron had become true brothers finally, understanding each other's very souls and minds more perfectly than any two people could ever expect to.

But truthfully, they had all become one mind, one soul, one being... the three of them. And with such a huge dent now in who they were, it had been very clear to Harry that filling that gap, or at least accepting it, wasn't going to be easy. But this was the first night, the first time, when Harry realized, _knew _on some level, that even if _he _could patch himself up some day, Ron... never could.

And this... connection in Ron's mind between himself and Voldemort, some desperate attempt to find a way to conquer something that was never meant to be conquered... never like this.

"Voldemort's dead. He failed," Harry stated dumbly, using the only logic that came to mind.

"Yes," Ron whispered. "But I... I _understand _him, Harry," Ron admitted, guilt finally seeping into his voice. "If... if someone gave me the key, told me how to do it... to _bring her back_..."

"You wouldn't," Harry said as he stepped closer to Ron, his heart pounding. "You couldn't..."

Ron turned slowly to face Harry, his hair in his eyes, a dull glow around his pupils, a window to his thoughts and admissions...

"Wouldn't I?" Ron nearly cried, his eyes locked with Harry's. "I was afraid to say it, afraid to admit that _we_... we might be more alike than you know, me and _him_. But... it's true. I won't bother lying to you, Harry..."

"No," Harry said quickly, his voice stronger and louder than he expected it to be. "You aren't alike, Ron. There is one difference you're forgetting, one huge difference."

"What?" Ron breathed.

"Your thoughts are clouded by..." Harry paused to swallow, the intensity in Ron's eyes overwhelming him slightly... "by love," Harry said firmly, believing his own words with all his heart. "_He _never loved anyone... or anything... not even himself. His fear and hatred are what drove him. And you will never be that. You will never be the same. Don't forget that."

Ron nodded very slowly, and as Harry watched him, he knew that Ron had accepted these words, believed them even. And it was a huge relief... until Ron spoke again...

"But then that's why it'll work this time."

Ron looked back into the empty fireplace, his eyes shining with another round of unshed tears. Horrified by the continuation of this line of reasoning, Harry simply stared at Ron, unable to believe it.

"I... l-love her. And that's what _will _bring her back. I know... I know it'll work. It has to. I... I've planned it out."

"Oh my God, Ron..." Harry breathed, his eyes perfect circles as he stared at his best friend's profile.

There was no hesitation in Ron's voice, no second guessing. He had this all planned out. He wasn't turning back. And nothing Harry could do or say could change his mind. He knew that. And it was the most terrifying thing he had ever felt, to be helpless to stop it, to have no control whatsoever...

"You can't..." Harry said automatically, though he might as well have remained silent. His words would never reach Ron where he was now... "She wouldn't want it this way! You know that! You have to know that!"

Ron's eyes narrowed a fraction as he faced Harry fully once more, but he said nothing, his expression blank and unreadable.

"She hated the idea of the Resurrection Stone, remember?" Harry continued. "Thought it was mental. If she knew that you were..."

Harry paused to gather his thoughts, so horrified that he could hardly continue. But he had to...

"Ron, why do you think it is that all the ghosts we know are the ones who had petty priorities in life and died with these links to their former lives on Earth that they can't seem to shake or give up? Hermione... she was too smart for all that. She's... moved on. She's probably somewhere wonderful... why would she want to-"

"Moved on?" interrupted Ron abruptly. "Moved on to where?"

Harry stared at Ron for a long moment before shrugging, defeated.

"Do you really believe that, Harry?" Ron asked, begging with his eyes for a truthful answer.

"All I know," Harry sighed, "is that there's _something _out there, something waiting for us when we've finished living this life. Can't you feel that?"

Ron looked down at the carpet, his arms limp at his sides, his fingers moving gently over the material in his hand.

"I hope that's true... I really do... but..." Ron looked up again, his eyes pleading once more. "Harry, I can't go on without her," he nearly cried, and Harry's heart broke at the sound of Ron's voice. "I _know _it, Harry! If I never see her again... I'll never be _happy _again... not for a moment..."

Harry stared at Ron, clueless as to what to say next. Ron visibly resigned from the conversation, turning back to face the empty fireplace.

"You should go home, Harry."

"So should you!" Harry shouted, the words forming and releasing themselves too quickly for him to know what he was saying or to stop himself.

Ron turned again and looked down his long nose at Harry.

"You should stop paying for it, you know, my flat," Ron said dully.

"How did you-"

"Ginny," Ron sighed. "She told me. She tried to guilt me into going back there."

"Ron..." It was true, Harry had been keeping up Ron's flat, hoping that he'd return to it soon, that once enough time had passed, he'd want to leave Hermione's old place and return to his own... That time had not yet come, and Harry wasn't to the point of being impatient with Ron yet, no matter how his family had been feeling. After all, it had only been two months since...

"I promise you," Ron said, his voice low and rough, "I won't ever move back there."

"Then let me stay here with you," Harry begged, aware of the fact that they had had this conversation so many times before, this exact one, only to end without a resolution. Harry would leave Ron to himself, the way he wanted it. Harry had thought that Ron needed the space to heal. But now... now Harry knew that he had been a fool, tricked into abandoning Ron so that he could _plan_...

"Go home, Harry," Ron repeated, but Harry shook his head.

"Ron, you're going to be okay... you're going to be fine..." Harry half-whispered the words, trying to convince himself of them even as he spoke them to Ron.

Tears rolled silently down Ron's face and Harry squinted to hold back his own as he watched.

_What if Ron's right? What if this is it, if he'll never be himself again, never be happy... never be complete?_

And in an instant, something snapped in Harry. He saw Ron's tears, and they weren't obstacles anymore, not something he had to mend.

"Prove it," Harry said firmly.

Ron met Harry's eyes, confusion in his expression.

"Prove... what?"

"Prove that what you say is true, that you'll never be happy without her. Prove it and I'll listen to your plan."

Ron's eyes widened and he sniffed.

"You will?"

Harry nodded.

"Okay," Ron said slowly, nodding as well. "Leave. Forget we had this conversation. Come back in six months. I'll stop planning, stop everything. I'll try, Harry, really I will. And if you find me the same, if nothing has changed..."

"Then I'll listen," Harry agreed, "I'll hear what you've got to say and we can discuss it... I'll... believe you."

A very distant hint of a smile somehow slipped onto Ron's face. It was a sight that Harry had dismissed as possible, and seeing it now was nearly infectious. Harry could have managed the slightest upturn of his lips...

"Well, looks like I've got some drawers to lock," said Ron, and he walked steadily out of the room, out of sight, leaving Harry with his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**February 15, 1999**

Ron opened his eyes.

The knock on the front door that had woken him seemed more distant than usual, as if coming to him through a long tunnel deep underground. He struggled to fully awaken, and he sat up, blinking at the half-closed bedroom door in front of him.

Harry was here, waiting outside the flat.

But something about his presence this morning felt different...

Ron dragged himself out of bed to answer the door, pulling the sheets halfway off in the process, one of his socks seriously threatening to come off the end of his foot. When he finally reached the door and swung it open, Harry stared back in at him as if he hadn't seen him in a long time, though they had parted company less than twelve hours ago the night before.

"May I come in?" Harry asked unnecessarily as Ron backed away to allow him to enter.

Harry stood, his hands clasped nervously in front of him, his back towards Ron as Ron shut the door and waited for Harry to say something. It was unlike him to remain so quiet, not to show the customary concern for Ron's well being, followed by his knowing stares and sympathetic attempts at a smile.

"What..." Ron began, his voice scratchy with first morning use. He cleared his throat. "What's up?"

When Harry did not respond or turn to face Ron immediately, Ron made his way to the couch and sat, closing his eyes as he leaned back. He could feel Harry standing there, and could finally feel Harry's eyes on him...

"It's today," Harry said softly, his voice unsteady.

Ron opened his eyes and stared blankly up at Harry.

"You've been so lost you've forgotten... haven't you..." Harry half-sighed, his hands twitching slightly at his sides.

"Forgotten..." Ron repeated, looking away from Harry to concentrate on a clue, on some seed of a memory, dancing in the back of his head...

"I promised you, and you're no better now than you were then, not that I really _expected_..." Harry added quietly, and Ron felt his body tense up as it all came back to him. But it couldn't be... it hadn't been nearly long enough!

"Today..." Ron breathed, looking up at Harry again, his eyes round and shining as tears filled them. "Is it really?"

Harry nodded, his own eyes squinted against oncoming tears.

Then, without warning, Ron stood and rushed over to Harry, hugging him tightly, his mouth near Harry's ear. They both shook, Ron's arms squeezing Harry so it almost hurt him.

"It's going to work," Ron whispered before he pulled back, wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. "Come on," Ron instructed, his voice stronger than Harry had heard it in a long time. "We've got a lot to do..."

Ron led Harry quickly towards the back hall. A door stood at the end of it, unopened and dark. It felt like part of another place altogether, separate from the rest of the flat, blocked off and abandoned. But Ron reached out to it, an old familiarity returning to him in the way he turned the bronze handle.

The door swung slightly farther than Ron had anticipated, and it hit the wall with a light thud. The books piled high and wide on the shelves seemed sad and lonesome, their owner having left them all to collect dust... left them without warning.

Ron entered the room so slowly, it was hard to tell he was moving at all. His eyes darted from shelf to shelf, window to cabinet, and finally landed on the desk in the center of the room, the desk with three locked drawers on the opposite side...

The dark wood of the desktop had collected so much dust that it was impossible to even take in the original mahogany stain. It was gray and lifeless now, and when Ron finally reached it, he brushed the top with the tips of his fingers, cutting a path through the dust and stirring it up. Behind Ron, Harry coughed as he stepped into the flying dust particles that Ron had released.

"Sorry," Ron half-whispered without turning around, and Harry shrugged, a gesture that Ron caught out of the corner of his eye as he rounded the desk to stand in front of the drawers. He stared down at them, heart pounding.

He had arrived at this moment much too quickly, not enough time to prepare himself. Inside these drawers lay what he was sure was the way to bring Hermione back, to fix what had happened eight months ago now.

Eight months. It could have been an eternity, though it passed in the blink of an eye. It was as if time no longer made sense, no longer had meaning in this world. Maybe that would save them now... maybe it would make the next step that much easier...

Ron's hand stretched itself out towards the underside of the desk, feeling for a familiar, cold piece of metal. His eyes revealed the moment he found it, wide and shining as he ripped the Spellotape away from the tiny key...

Trembling, he unlocked the top desk drawer and paused, staring down at it, his heart pounding.

"Ron..." Harry said gently, and before he could say anything else, Ron opened the drawer and stared down at the papers and books stacked inside. Methodically, trying not to think about what it meant, he removed them and carried them around to the middle of the rug, sitting and spreading everything out around him, his chest moving rapidly as he struggled to breathe normally.

"Harry..." Ron said, awe filling his voice as he eyed the papers around him, everything rushing back to him... his plan, all the details, and the image of her - _alive _- once more before him.

Harry sat in front of Ron, taking in all of Ron's notes in his rough, scribbled writing. And the books, so many pages earmarked and bookmarked. Harry's lips twitched and Ron looked up at him, puzzled.

"She wouldn't be very proud of this," Harry said, holding up a book and pointing out all the misuse it had endured.

"She can..." Ron began, swallowing so he wouldn't choke on his own words... "lecture me when she gets back." He flipped open a large book, clearly looking for something specific. Harry stared at him, his half-smile turning solemn again.

"_Back_," Harry said. "You act like she's simply gone on holiday..."

Though Ron heard Harry's words, he did not give any outward indication that he had. His mind was set on the task of remembering everything he had planned and of sharing it with Harry, of convincing him that it would work...

"Here," Ron breathed after a moment, more to himself than to Harry. "This is it..."

"What?" Harry asked, leaning in closer to Ron to get a look at the book in his lap.

At the top of page Ron was pouring over, the was an introduction in curvy cursive writing:

'The Principles of Time Travel'

"_Time travel_?" Harry's eyes widened as he looked up from the page to Ron's face.

"I know where a time turner is, unless it's been moved since I started all this..."

"_What_?" Shocked was hardly the right word to describe Harry's expression, his mouth hanging open as he waited for Ron to tell him it was all a joke. "Time travel. That's your plan?"

"Harry, hear me out," Ron said as he ran a finger down the page before him.

Harry shook his head absently, still gawking at Ron.

"There's no limit to how far back you can go with a time turner," Ron continued, paraphrasing what he was reading, his eyes fixed on the book. "We just have to calculate the exact number of hours, one hour for each turn..."

Harry shook his head once more, half laughing at the absurdity of everything.

"You're putting me on..." he said.

"What?" Ron asked, looking up at Harry and finally taking in just how flabbergasted he had left Harry. "No. No, I'm not. I really think this will work. Listen..."

"How..." Harry began, "how the _hell _do you plan on undoing her death once we get back?"

"Don't worry. I've got it all figured out," Ron said, looking up at Harry again, confidence in his expression.

"She was killed by the killing curse..." Harry said slowly, clearly trying to introduce some logic into the conversation.

"But what if she _wasn't_?" Ron asked, eyes wide as he waited for Harry to react.

"You're not making sense," said Harry, confused. "She _was_... we saw it... and we can't change anything that already happened, remember? That's sort of a rule of all this... time travel stuff." Harry said his last words with bewilderment, as if he couldn't believe it himself, that he was actually even entertaining the thought of going through with Ron's plan...

"But we aren't _going _to change anything..." Ron said, almost smiling as he flipped through the pages in his lap.

"I don't-" Harry started, but Ron cut him off.

"What would happen if someone used the killing curse silently?" Ron asked. Harry appeared slightly thrown off by Ron's new line of questioning, but answered anyway, tentatively.

"I... I don't know really..."

"Well, I do," Ron said a bit proudly, picking up another book and opening it to a pre-marked page. "Right here," he said, touching his index finger to a passage in the book. "There's a documented case of a man who was hit with the killing curse after the person performing the curse had been silenced. Doesn't say what spell was used to silence him, but basically, the man trying to curse him couldn't speak the words. So the man who was hit was only stunned really, knocked out pretty bad. It took a bit of work to revive him, but they did... and he was alright!"

Ron looked up at Harry again now, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"But..." Harry began, still looking puzzled, "you've forgotten. When... when Hermione was hit, we _heard _the bastard shout the curse out loud."

Ron shook his head and Harry opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but Ron explained himself before Harry had the chance.

"We heard... _someone's_ voice."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Ron paused, giving Harry a minute to catch up, but when it became obvious that he wasn't going to, Ron let out an exasperated sigh and half-shouted his explanation.

"All we have to do is hide under the cloak, silence the Death Eater before he does anything, then one of us shouts the curse while _he _fires it! To the old versions of us, it'll look and sound like she really _was_ killed. We'll hear and see the curse and we'll be convinced, just as we were the first time around! She won't be moving because she'll be deeply stunned! So we just wait until they come to take her body, tag along in the carriage, then revive her once they leave her at the morgue!"

Harry's eyes widened as he stared at Ron.

"I..." he began, looking flustered and a bit overwhelmed.

"You know it's a good plan, don't you," Ron said, his lips curving up slightly again as he watched Harry think it all over, obviously coming up with no real objections or flaws to the presented plan... But finally, Harry's eyes returned to normal size, and he spoke again...

"What about after? People saw her dead... didn't they?"

"I've thought about that too," Ron said quickly, flipping through his notes again. "I've been over and over it. The only ones who saw her were me, you, the people who took her away, and the man who put her in her coffin. No one at the funeral saw her body..."

Ron swallowed thickly, thinking about Hermione's parents. They were still in Australia, oblivious. Hermione had wanted to wait until the remaining Death Eaters had been captured and imprisoned before bringing her parents home. And after her death, Ron had debated telling them, only to decide that it was best if they didn't know, if they remained unaware of their daughter at all... to save them from the pain he was experiencing. After much discussion, Harry had agreed as well, somewhat reluctantly. The hardest part had been explaining everything to Ron's parents, who had objected to the whole thing, only to find out later that Hermione had actually written up a will for herself before her death, a will that indicated that if she died, her parents were to remain as they were and _who _they were... safely in Australia.

"Okay," Harry said, trying to remain calm and rational. "Okay... there's got to be something we're missing here..."

"Have a look," Ron said, handing Harry his notes. "It's all here. I was almost ready to start when you... found out what I was up to..."

"So... we Obliviate the people who did see her body? That's changing something, isn't it?"

"We don't do it until _after _we've caught up to the present," Ron explained. "Let everyone think she's really dead until we bring her back and change their minds..."

Harry's eyes remained skeptical for as long as he could manage, but finally, he sighed and shook his head.

"She's going to kill us..."

For the first time in months, Ron allowed a full smile to spread across his face as he stared back at Harry.

* * *

They sat in the living room hours later, neither one speaking. Ron hadn't looked so peaceful in so long, it was almost unnatural. But as Ron's mood had lightened considerably, Harry's had plummeted. Fear rushed to the front of his mind as he tried to imagine what they were about to do, what he had to do now... what he had promised. It was true he had never promised to go _through _with it, never said with confidence that he could manage it, but now that he was here, he couldn't take this away from his best mate. There was a light now that had been nonexistent before, and Harry could not be the one to put it out.

"I don't think you should tell Ginny," Ron said quietly, startling Harry from his thoughts.

"Yeah..." Harry agreed. "Probably best not to tell her. Unless you want someone to fight us about going through with this..."

"Yeah, we can't tell her." Ron shifted on the couch, getting more comfortable.

"You know how mental this is, don't you?" Harry asked, afraid that Ron may have lost all reason, all sight of the logic that Harry was so desperately searching for in all of this...

"Yeah," Ron said simply, stretching his legs out on the rug in front of him.

Harry rubbed his hands over his face and tried to calm down. He had to commit to this now...

"You're not thinking of backing out, are you?" Ron asked, though his tone was not accusatory, merely one of curiosity. It gave Harry the impression that Ron would go ahead with his plan with or without Harry's help, and this managed to scare him into committing verbally to everything, something he hadn't really done before now...

"No. We're doing this," Harry sighed. "Let's go over it again."

"We need to get the Time Turner first," Ron said methodically. "We'll leave in the middle of the night, tonight, and steal it... under the cloak."

"Right, and we're sure the one you saw six months ago is still in the Head Auror offices at the Ministry?"

"Can't be sure, can I."

"Right..." The idea that they could not be sure about most aspects of Ron's plan was what left a gaping hole in Harry's heart, knowing that there was little that could be done to fill in the missing pieces.

"We should leave in a few hours."

"Get some sleep," Harry ordered as he shoved Ron's shoulder. "Go to bed."

Ron stood, surprisingly, without protest, and headed towards the hallway. But he turned back to face Harry at the last moment before he disappeared around the corner.

"Harry," he said softly. Harry looked up at his friend, eyes wet and glistening in the moonlight. "You have no idea... what this means to me. Thank you."

"I have _some _idea," Harry said with a smile that Ron returned. And then he was gone.

Left to his thoughts, Harry stretched out on the couch, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep. In a few hours, they would head down a course that there was no turning back from. And once they'd gone back to that moment, once they saw _her _again... _alive_... Harry knew, as well as he had ever known anything before in his life, that if it didn't work, if they failed, he would not only lose Hermione all over again, but he'd lose Ron too... for good.

It was like looking at a last chance, the scraps of a life discarded that could be pieced back together again only if the stars aligned precisely.

Hours. They seemed so minute and pointless. Moments left until the world was turned upside down. If he tried, Harry could forget time altogether, could lie here in this moment and focus on breathing... the only thing he felt any control over now. And even that, in the end, was so delicate and unstable.

Life. How easy it could be ripped away. They had watched it first hand. And now, two people, so small and insignificant, held the world in their hands, ready to turn it the way they saw fit. It was mad. It was unimaginable. But it _was_. It had to be.

* * *

Ron saw her face, as he often did, in his dreams. Blurry focus on misshapen features, straining to recover them and distinguish them from their murky surroundings.

He was a child, lost in a maze. He was being guided by a force, though he was unaware. His older self, watching silently as he drifted through the darkness, warned that he would trip. But he did not, and he was surprised to find his boots taking him in the right direction, towards a distant sound, echoing through darkness.

Then someone was crying. He searched for the source, only to discover that it had been him all along. He could not relate or feel anything, could not imagine that he was looking in a mirror when he saw the darkness around this old man's eyes, the wrinkles and lines on his forehead and neck.

Perhaps he was dying, or already dead. He had no way to tell, no reference point...

Until he felt her.

Soft. Warm. Real.

If she was alive, then so was he.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** So who watched Bill and Ted? Well, you know how they have an Iron Maiden obsession? And you know how they travel through time? Well, *blush* the title for this story actually came from the title of an Iron Maiden track. And no, I'm not an Iron Maiden fan, but when I think about time travel, I think about Bill and Ted, and I wanted a good story title, so I flipped through Iron Maiden's discography and found "Remember Tomorrow" and it was too perfect. haha, thought I'd share that rather nerdy fact with everyone. Now, on with the show!_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 3**

**February 16, 1999**

2am

Ron woke seconds before his alarm sounded. It was as if his body knew what it needed to do. He had aimed every one of his senses in the same direction, towards a common goal, and nothing could distract him.

He nearly leapt from bed and rushed out of the room to find Harry sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees.

"Ready?" Harry asked as he stood, surprising Ron.

He had not expected Harry to be to the one to take action. He knew that Harry had his reservations about the plan but that he was going along with it anyway. Harry desperately wanted to see Hermione alive as well, and Ron knew that. But Ron's blind enthusiasm was probably irrational... and possibly even careless. Harry would keep him from making a mistake...

"We need to go quickly," Harry said, unfolding his cloak as he approached Ron, but he paused, raising his eyebrows as he took in Ron's appearance. "You shaved."

Ron shrugged. He now looked as close as ever to how he had on the day Hermione had died...

"Well, get under," Harry said, smiling sadly, knowingly, as Ron blushed.

Ron ducked under the cloak with Harry, crouching low to accommodate their height difference.

"Ready?" Ron whispered, gripping Harry's arm tightly. Harry nodded and Ron turned them quickly, Disapparating from the flat.

With a pop, they stumbled slightly, catching their balance. They stood dead center inside the telephone booth that served as the visitor's entrance to the Ministry.

"Nice," Harry said, admiring Ron's accuracy.

"Cheers," Ron whispered as he dialed the phone inside the booth, waiting to be let down into the Atrium.

The journey through the silent corridors went much more smoothly than they could have hoped. No one was around this time of night so it was easy to access the elevators and reach their destination. But entering the Head Auror offices was the tricky part... and what Harry had assumed would be a bit of a time consuming guessing game, turned out extremely lucky...

"I can't bloody believe you guessed the password on the first try," Harry whispered in awe, still under the invisibility cloak as he stared at the doors opening before them. Ron looked just as shocked. "Contego? Really?"

"Dunno," Ron shrugged, sliding through the doors and into the lobby beyond. "I'm a lucky git, I guess."

"Understatement..." Harry breathed as he followed Ron inside, shutting the doors behind them. Harry finally came out from under the cloak and lit his wand.

The hallway beyond was dark, made more so by the deep cherry wood paneling on the walls and the navy carpet beneath their feet. They walked slowly, carefully, past closed office doors with gold nameplates on them. It was odd, like the hall was endless. They could not make out where it ended, only a deep dark cave before them stretching out into the unknown.

"Which one is it?" Harry whispered barely audibly, his eyes wide as he followed in Ron's footsteps.

"It's at the end," Ron replied just as quietly.

They continued on for what seemed like days, until finally, a door directly in front of them at the very end of the hallway could be made out. The end was in sight.

"Should be..." Ron murmured, glancing left and studying the nameplates as they passed them at a snail's pace.

"What's his name again?" Harry asked.

"Harold Hudgins," Ron hissed, his eyes landing on that very name as he stopped dead in front of the door.

Ron couldn't move. He was glued to the floor it seemed, or stuck in quicksand.

Harry reached out to the doorknob and attempted to turn it, obviously with no luck.

"Alohomora," Harry whispered, pointing his wand at the door. But nothing happened. And even knowing beforehand that it probably wouldn't, Ron's heart rate had doubled.

"Nice try," Ron breathed, his eyes unmoving from the nameplate before him...

They both stared at the door, Harry shifting his weight from foot to foot as he contemplated their next move.

"What now?" he asked aloud.

"I remember something," Ron said slowly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"There's a weird lock inside... when I was here before, when I had my meeting with Hudgins..."

"But how does it work? Do you think we need a password?"

"No... no, I think..." Ron paused, his eyebrows furrowed. He touched his wand to the doorknob, and though his lit wand tip illuminated the bronze in a way that said he had a plan, it was clear that he was doubting his ability to figure this out...

But before he could say anything else, there was a click... and the door slid open.

"What did you do?" Harry asked, stunned.

"Not sure really," Ron said as he pushed open the door. "But whatever it was, it obviously worked."

Harry stepped into the office after Ron and watched as Ron headed straight for the back wall. A locked drawer was their next obstacle.

"Alohomora," Ron tried, and to his joy, the drawer opened instantly.

He was staring down at the time turner before he could prepare himself. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of it, shocked. He had really expected it not to be here, for something to go wrong... to stall them. And no amount of excited optimism could convince him that he'd really be here right now, staring down at the way back to Hermione...

"It's here!" he shouted without thinking.

Harry rushed over as Ron removed it from the drawer.

"Quiet!" Harry instructed as he gazed at the time turner. "Let's go."

Ron nodded his agreement, unable to speak. It was happening. It was really happening!

"To the building," Harry panted as he led them back down the corridor at triple speed.

When they reached the end of the hall, much more quickly than they had the first time, Harry flung the invisibility cloak over both of their heads and they shuffled out into the corridor beyond, the Head Auror hall door shutting with way too much force, the metallic bang echoing off the corridor walls and causing both Harry and Ron to flinch simultaneously.

They impatiently waited for the elevator to arrive, Ron still staring down at the time turner in his fist. He was panting so quickly through his mouth that Harry could hear each shake of his unsteady breath as he exhaled.

"Go!" Harry hissed as the elevator doors opened. Ron was too distracted by the time turner to realize he was supposed to be moving. Harry tugged Ron's arm and Ron finally moved his feet, half-staggering into the elevator next to Harry.

The ride was much too slow, each floor passing by as if sinking into place through molasses. Harry literally began to tap his feet against the carpeted elevator floor.

"Come on, come on," he muttered.

But Ron hardly noticed. He slipped the time turner over his head, allowing it to dangle against his chest, lighter than he had expected. He touched the hourglass inside the gold casing, delicately smoothing his thumb over the glass.

Finally, the ding of the elevator signaled that they had arrived at their destination and the doors opened. Once again, Harry pulled Ron with him until Ron was keeping pace. They reached the visitor's entrance and crammed inside, Harry still taking the lead as he pulled the phone booth doors shut. The booth rose, and, panting slightly, Harry finally looked at Ron.

"We got it," he said, eyeing the chain around Ron's neck.

Ron grinned back, his eyes shining in the moonlight as the phone booth surfaced.

"Ready?" Harry asked. Ron nodded, and this time, Harry linked arms with Ron, turning them and Disapparating to where it all started...

With a pop, woods came into view, the sound of water gently moving over rocks in the creak behind them filling the air.

Ron raised his head slowly, and the moment his eyes landed on what was before them, his mouth dropped open slowly, silently, his eyes wide.

They stood just out of view of the abandoned building where Hermione had been killed... This had always been the plan, to come straight here after getting the time turner, to waste no more time. But Ron had been too exhilarated at actually managing to get ahold of the time turner that he hadn't been thinking straight, hadn't really stopped to consider where they were going next when Harry had taken him side-along from the phone booth...

"Ron," Harry said gently as he watched his friend. "Are you ready?"

"H-how many turns did we say?" Ron asked, his eyes glued to the tall rotting building in the open field before them.

"Six thousand and eighty," Harry said slowly. "Puts us four hours before..."

"And... and we've estimated an hour to get through that many turns," Ron repeated, reviewing their plan again, focusing on the logic of it to keep himself from falling apart. He tore his eyes roughly away from the building and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "Okay, let's get started." He nodded to emphasize to himself that he was ready, though he felt far from it.

"If you need more time..." Harry began, but Ron shook his head.

"No! No, let's do this..."

Ron stretched the time turner's chain away from his body and looped it over Harry's head, tying the two of them together.

"This is familiar," Harry muttered as Ron looked down at the hour glass, gently lifting it.

Ron understood Harry's reference but chose to ignore it, his heart racing and mind becoming more heavy and muddled with every passing second. Memories jumped forward, taking over nearly all reason he had left. He could _feel _her there as flashes assaulted him in random order. First they were shouting at each other, her hair flying around her face. Then she was running towards him, _kissing _him in the Room of Requirement. Then they were meeting for the first time, a train whistle sounding though it hadn't been part of the memory before...

"Ron..." Harry said gently. "Ron..."

Ron blinked, squeezed the time turned in his hand, and remembered where he was... what he needed to do.

"Sorry," he breathed, and he turned the hour glass once instantly, before he could think about it any longer. He watched the sands fall quickly from one side to the other.

"One..." Harry whispered. Ron turned again. "Two..."

The sands sped up, flying from side to side more quickly with each turn. Not much changed around them yet as they moved through the night, through time they had already lived...

"Seven..."

The sun began to rise, sunset moving backwards through the sky. The trees above them moved with the wind, though they appeared to be engaged in a sharp, sporadic dance, branches suddenly jumping to another place, leaves moving unnaturally.

"Twenty-one..."

The sun fell once more in a reverse sunrise, dew drops forming on the grass and flowers of the field beyond. A thin layer of mist covered everything as the world was dropped back into deep darkness, stars twinkling in the sky overhead. A chill moved through the air and Ron shivered as he turned the time turner again.

Drops of rain turned to sheets, soaking Harry and Ron through in seconds... seconds... all the time it took to pass through the storm, one solitary thunder crack echoing off the rickety walls of the building as the sun came out again.

Day turned to night. Night turned to day.

"Eighty-three."

The sands inside the hourglass swirled as if in a whirlpool. Colors blurred as time sped up, moving backwards at a rate that Ron could not comprehend. He had been aware of days passing, but now it was too hard to know whether they were passing through day or night, the sun blinking on and off as hours rushed by.

"Two hundred... and sixty one..." Harry said breathlessly.

Everything was spinning now. Ron stopped watching his surroundings, focusing again on the time turner in his hands instead, one thing that remained relatively stationary, though the violent swirling inside the glass was making him even more dizzy. He felt off balance as he turned it again, unsure if he could make it to the end... they had so far left to go...

"Three hundred and thirteen!" Harry half-shouted, linking arms with Ron now to remain grounded.

"Harry..." Ron mouthed, his head light and fuzzy, vision going in and out of focus. He turned the hourglass again... again... again...

"Three hundred... and ninety-nine..."

Air rushed by them, like a stampede had passed inches from them... It was freezing outside, but Ron's blood was boiling as if on fire. He was going to burn up... or freeze to death. He could not be sure which.

"Don't stop!" Harry urged through gritted teeth as Ron's fingers fell limp against the time turner.

"I can't..." Ron moaned, swaying on the spot.

"Ron... Ron!" Harry shouted, blinking furiously against his own unsteadiness.

Ron's clouded mind pulled up another image of Hermione, of her body lifeless and unmoving before him... A cry escaped him at how vividly he could see her now in his memories, his eyes squinted as he squeezed Harry's arm so tightly he was probably cutting off circulation.

Turn... turn... turn... turn...

"F-four hundred... and fifty..."

Time did not seem to exist. It was flexible, able to be molded to his will... Ron held onto Harry desperately, taking control of what they were doing, of the strange gift he had in his hands...

A way back...

A second chance...

"One... thousand..."

Inside that little room on the third floor, the one he could see if he focused on it, the one with all those broken boards, glass shattered in pieces as tiny as sand particles on the floor around them... Inside that room, Ron saw her now... but she wasn't dead. Not anymore. Her eyes were open. They were still. But he knew something she didn't. He knew the power he held in his hands... he had the key. He alone could use it, could save her.

"Two thousand..."

Turn. Turn.

They weren't standing in the forest anymore. Their feet were lighter than air. They were flying... or they were falling.

"Three thousand."

Ron's hand slackened a fraction on the hourglass, cramping from so much repetitive use.

"Do you need me to-" Harry half-choked out, clinging to Ron tightly.

"No, no..." Ron shook his head. This was his job. His. Not Harry's. Not this time.

Turn. Turn. Turn.

They stumbled in unison, backed against a tree to keep from falling. With something stable behind him, Ron regained strength and determination, more than he knew he even possessed.

He closed his eyes, focused on the cool metal and glass in his hands. It had become easy to feel what he was doing. He did not need to see it.

"Four thousand..."

Ron laughed excitedly, light swirling and fluttering behind his closed eyelids, blinking like a red orange strobe light.

They were weightless. Invincible. They did not exist the way others did. They were on some other plane, a new level or dimension between worlds... between life and...

"Five thousand..."

"Almost..." Ron whispered to himself, opening his eyes again. His stomach flipped over as the world spun furiously before him. He was going to be sick if it didn't stop soon.

No. He was in charge. He was making this happen. It was up to him.

"More," he said, clutching the time turner in both hands now as he began to turn with his left hand instead of his right.

Harry was slouching slightly against Ron, their arms still linked, backs against the tree trunk.

"Harry... Harry..." Ron repeated as he continued to turn. Harry had stopped counting. "Harry!"

"I'm with you mate..." Harry breathed. "Keep going..."

Turn... turn...

"Five thousand seven hundred and twenty..." Harry finally said, shocking Ron. They were so close!

Ron began to count with Harry, each number bringing them closer. Ron's voice seemed to increase in volume with each turn. He was winning. They were going to make it!

"Six thousand and seventy five!" Ron shouted in unison with Harry, pushing away from the tree and pulling Harry with him. "Six thousand and seventy six! Six thousand and seventy seven!"

The whole world was one big out of focus blur. The trees were monsters, hanging over them, looking down at their handy work.

"Six thousand and seventy eight!" Ron laughed, a grin spreading wide across his face. "Six thousand and seventy nine!"

Turn.

**June 7, 1998**

**8pm**

Ron's trembling hands paused against the time turner. Harry panted raggedly beside him as everything came into focus. The sun was setting, very low in the sky now. The building swam before them as if through fog, finally settling and freezing.

A heavy breeze blew at normal speed, whipping their hair about.

Harry's grip on Ron's arm slackened and he staggered forward, resting his hands on his knees.

"Fucking... hell..." Harry spluttered, heaving slightly, trying not to be sick.

"Language, Harry," Ron said automatically, though he was paying no attention, his eyes fixed on the building before them.

"You're one... to talk..." Harry choked, coughing as he swayed, still hunched over.

"We're here..." Ron whispered in awe. "We're here..."

Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair as he attempted to stand up straight again, trying to remain balanced.

"How are you not sick?" Harry asked, disgusted. Ron stood rigid, facing their destination.

A smile slowly spread across Ron's face as his vision blurred again, though this time, not from the time turner...

"Ron?" Harry tried as he approached him cautiously, trying not to fall.

"This is it, Harry," Ron whispered as Harry moved to stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

Together, they gazed at the disheveled building as the sun set below the horizon, stars popping to life in the navy sky, shining in their watery eyes as they faced the next step...

"Do we..." Harry began, unable to complete his sentence. But Ron understood him anyway and nodded, tucking the time turner inside his shirt.

As steadily as he could, Harry draped the cloak over them both. Ron took the first step towards the field, his feet as heavy as lead now.

Across the space between the woods and the front door, barely hanging on to its hinges. Through the front hall, walls full of holes to the outside, windows empty of their glass. Up the stairs, around the corner to the spiral staircase that would take them to the attic on the third floor. Beside Harry, Ron trembled so violently that the cloak threatened to slide off him.

Through the door in the ceiling, boots scuffing against old, unpolished wood, large splinters sticking out at odd angles. Ron sucked in a breath as he viewed, for the first time since her death, the room in which she had been taken away from him...

"We have nearly three hours," Harry said. "We should turn back our watches so we know when to expect... _us_..."

Ron could not reply as Harry led them to the corner of the room to wait. Three hours until he saw her again. Even if they couldn't bring her back, which Ron wasn't allowing himself to consider, he'd still see her again. Alive.

"And now..." Harry sighed as he pulled Ron down with him to sit against the wall in the corner... "we wait."

Ron swallowed thickly, a lump settling securely in his throat.

"And now we wait," Ron echoed, stomach tying itself into a knot so tight it might never come undone.

Harry adjusted the cloak over them, making sure they were completely covered.

"Should we go through the plan again?" Harry asked, clearly looking for some way to pass the time.

"Okay," Ron agreed. "Tell me everything."

* * *

**10:47pm**

Voices. Distant and muffled.

Ron and Harry gasped in unison and sat up straight, staring at the open door in the floor that led down to the level below.

"The door!" Harry hissed, crawling instantly out from under the cloak.

"Harry!" Ron whispered almost hysterically as Harry tried to shut the door as quietly as possible.

There was a bang from below, followed by a familiar voice, swearing viciously. Ron... or the old version of himself. He had opened the front door a bit carelessly. He remembered...

In the attic, Harry finally shut the door in the floor completely and crawled back under the cloak next to Ron. Together, they held their breaths, listening to the sounds of their own voices coming from downstairs.

"She's right there!" Ron mouthed at Harry, his forehead creased in what appeared to be pain. Harry nodded very slowly, listening for the sound of _her _voice...

"Ron," they heard her say.

Ron's heart stopped. He was sure it had. He felt like a statue sitting there. Nothing worked. He had forgotten all functions of life... How did you breathe again? What made your blood move through your veins?

He remembered _exactly _what was happening downstairs, why she'd said his name that way, her voice teasing and playful. He'd made a stupid joke about her spellwork. She'd looked right at him, the corners of her mouth twitching, just before she'd said his name...

Ron squeezed Harry's arm, his fingers tightening their grip as he heard footsteps on the stairs coming up from the ground floor.

And then suddenly, completely startling him, there was a muted pop in the center of the room.

And before them stood a tall man in a black cloak, his features set deep in his pale face, eyes sunken and hollow. Rage boiled through Ron as he stared into the face of the man who had killed Hermione. It would be so easy to abandon the plan, to reveal himself from under the cloak and kill this man right now, changing everything. Ron felt Harry's hands on _his _arms now, restraining him gently, making sure he did not lose track of the rules...

Harry locked eyes with Ron, silently communicating what they had to do. They had one chance at this. They could not fail. One mistake and it would be over... they'd watch her die here on the floor all over again.

"Please," Harry mouthed, begging Ron to be rational, not to let his emotions interfere.

"I don't think I can do it," Ron half-mouthed, half-whispered as the footsteps from below traveled loudly around the level beneath them. "I can't..." Tears rolled silently and thickly down Ron's face. "I can't _say _it."

Ron had insisted on being the one to shout the curse in the Death Eater's voice. But faced with it, he couldn't do it. He wasn't strong enough for that. He knew it wasn't real, that he wasn't really cursing her... that he was _saving _her. But the idea of speaking the words that had ended her life, of _his own _malicious voice being the last voice she heard before she crumpled to the floor, whether or not she knew it was really him...

"Please, Harry," Ron mouthed. "Do this for me."

Harry nodded immediately as the footsteps ascended the spiral staircase.

A snarl formed on the Death Eater's face as he concealed himself in the shadows. Ron tried not to blink as he stared at the door in the floor, waiting to see her emerging.

"Careful," he heard himself say as the old version of Harry opened the door from below.

"What are the chances anyone's really up here?" old Harry asked as he stepped into the attic. "It's bloody dark up here. Can't see a damn thing."

"Light your wand," came Hermione's sensible voice. Ron tensed beside Harry and began to tremble violently.

"Lumos," old Harry said as old Ron emerged, then reached a hand back down to help Hermione up.

"No one can Apparate in here," old Harry said, coughing. "That's what they told me..."

"Such a waste of time," Hermione sighed as she finally came into view, clutching old Ron's hand as she stood. She put her lit wand in her mouth, dusting off the front of her jeans with her palms. Her wand tip illuminated her face, giving Ron a perfect view of her.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Ron repeated under his breath, hidden beneath the invisibility cloak, shaking from head to toe as he stared at her for the first time in eight months.

Then, without warning, the door slammed shut with a reverberating bang.

Hermione jumped, moving closer to old Ron. But a moment later, she dropped his hand and took a step forward.

"Hermione!" old Ron warned as she stretched her wand out in front of her.

"Now..." Harry whispered to himself, raising his wand under the cloak. With a swish, the concealed Death Eater was hit with a silencing spell.

"Hey!" Hermione shouted. She took one more step, one step closer to danger, one step further away from old Harry and old Ron...

And with a flash, the Death Eater turned to face them, a terrifying grin splitting his wrinkled face. Hermione gasped but had no time to do anything else before he raised his wand. His mouth opened... and so did Harry's.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, deepening his voice as much as he could manage without sounding ridiculous.

A flash of green light, reflected in Ron's tear-filled eyes underneath the cloak. Hermione collapsed, still and rigid.

The Death Eater had a moment of stunned confusion at the strange sound of his voice... Old Ron screamed so loud the walls shook. Old Harry shouted "expelliarmus!" before he began firing every curse he could think of at the now wandless Death Eater. Unarmed and outnumbered, the Death Eater turned, just as he was hit with a leg locker curse, and toppled out the hole in the wall where a window had once been. He fell to the ground, though no sound could be heard over old Ron's screaming as he dropped to the floor by Hermione's lifeless body.

Ron sobbed next to Harry under the cloak, his shirt coated in his own tears. He tried to be quiet, but he couldn't restrain himself completely. Besides, no one would ever hear him now over the sounds his old self was making. He was holding Hermione against his own chest, half-screaming as old Harry melted, stunned silent, to the floor by his side.

Harry clutched Ron's arm again under the cloak as Ron made a move as if trying to get closer to the scene playing out before them. But that was all it was, he tried frantically to remind himself... just a scene. She wasn't dead, just stunned. She was okay. She was going to be fine! It had worked... it _had_. He'd heard Harry's voice, and Harry's voice alone. The curse had been performed silently which meant she was fine... she'd be fine...

But suddenly, Ron felt the strongest urge yet to jump out the window after the Death Eater, to kill him now while he had the chance. But he relied on Harry holding him back to keep himself from doing something stupid, something he didn't have much power over himself to prevent.

Old Harry was leaning in over Hermione's body now, the three of them making up a strange huddle on the dark floor, their wands discarded around them.

"Harry! Harry!" old Ron wailed as he lowered his forehead to Hermione's. "H-help..."

Old Harry's face was contorted in agony as he squeezed old Ron and Hermione as one, lowering his own head down to Hermione's shoulder, his hair mingling with old Ron's.

Suddenly, startlingly even though Harry and Ron knew this would happen, old Ron stood, clutching Hermione's limp body, her feet nearly dragging the floor as he hoisted her up.

"Get somebody, Harry!" he screamed.

"W-who?" old Harry stuttered as he stared up into old Ron's face from where he still sat on the floor...

"Anybody!" old Ron sobbed.

Old Harry stood next to old Ron, helplessly staring up at him.

Under the cloak, Ron was falling against Harry, hiccuping back his sobs. Harry roughly pulled Ron in closer, his left arm draped over Ron's shoulders as Ron collapsed against Harry's side, his head against Harry's chest as he continued to watch, horrified...

"K-kill him... kill him," old Ron said nonsensically as he squeezed Hermione's body, now completely holding her weight against him, no part of her touching the ground.

Old Harry continued to watch wordlessly, tears gushing down his face too.

Then once again, old Ron moved erratically, falling back to the floor and gently lowering Hermione in front of him. He grabbed two wands at random and, clutching them both in the same fist, aimed them at Hermione's chest, his hand shaking so violently that he could hardly aim at all.

"Enervate!" he bellowed. Old Harry collapsed next to old Ron but remained silent, not even attempting to make old Ron stop. "Enervate! Harry, h-help me!"

As another wave of tears cascaded down old Ron's face, Harry moved to collect the last two wands on the floor... his own and the Death Eater's. With hatred, he aimed his own wand at the Death Eater's and vehemently cursed it, cracking it right down the middle. Then, old Harry aimed his own wand at Hermione's chest and, together with old Ron, they continued to hopelessly try and revive her.

Under the cloak, Ron shook, remembering every feeling, every thought. His old self _knew _she was gone. Lost. _Dead_. He would never see her again. But he was going to do this, to keep doing the only thing he knew how, attempting to revive her, until someone _forced _him to stop...

It could have been days sitting there, clutching each other for support, watching their old selves as they desperately tried to pretend it wasn't happening, that she would wake up, that they would hear her voice again... that they'd all go back to normal... that their lives had not been irrevocably changed in an instant.

And then, with no strength left, old Ron's body was wracked with a wave of sobs so heavy that he could no longer grip the wands in his hand. He cupped Hermione's face with his shaking hands, tears falling from his own face to hers, sliding down her cheeks as if they came from her own open eyes.

Next to old Ron, old Harry lowered his wand, sliding in closer to his two best friends. He reached out and shut Hermione's eyes gently with his fingertips. Old Ron flinched, and Ron remembered how he'd wanted to curse Harry for touching her that way, admitting that she was gone in his sad gesture. But he'd stopped himself. He had been too weak to do anything about it.

"W-we have to get her o-out of here..." old Harry stuttered as he wrapped a hand around Ron's forearm.

"They'll take you!" old Ron said to Hermione, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "They can't!"

"Ron..." old Harry cried, leaning against old Ron again, his tears soaking through old Ron's shirt. But before anything more could be said, a series of pops resounded from the floor below.

"It works!" came a male voice. "They said no one could Apparate in or out..."

Footsteps on the spiral staircase leading up to the attic.

"No... no... no..." old Ron repeated as he swayed, gathering Hermione's body, if possible, even closer to his own.

A team of Aurors emerged one after the other, wands lit.

"What's going on?" the tallest asked, concerned, as he approached old Harry and old Ron, their backs towards the door, Hermione in front of them.

"No... no... no..." old Ron continued to sob as he held Hermione.

"Is she..." the Auror said, eyes wide as he came into view of Hermione's body.

When he received no reply from either old Harry or old Ron, he motioned for the others in his team to approach. They gathered around, sadly watching the two broken men before them, holding a girl's body in their arms together now.

Under the cloak, Ron finally shut his eyes, his head falling into Harry's lap. He did not need to see this, didn't need to watch them finally separating him from Hermione, finally removing her from their sight. It was too much. When it was time to go, to get on the carriage, Ron would follow Harry's lead. But right now, he was imagining her alive again, imagining what he'd say and do when she opened her eyes. He had to believe that it had worked, that everything had gone the way he'd dreamt. And if he didn't have that, he was afraid he would be of no use at all when it was necessary for him to be.

Now he was someplace else, drifting through a sunny sky on his broom perhaps. He was happy. His heart soared as he touched down on the ground. Yes, he'd take her for a broom ride...

They were alone, drinking something from tall glasses. He'd give her everything she wanted. _Anything_.

He opened his arms and she ran into them.

"Ron..." Harry whispered shortly, tugging Ron out of his lap. "We have to go. The carriage is here..."

Ron sat up straight. He was returned to the attic, to where his old self was completely crushed on the floor, his face against the sharp wood. He remembered the cuts from the splinters, the ointment and bandages later. Old Harry was staring at him, completely clueless. His face was red from crying, his eyes pink and bloodshot.

Ron and Harry stood as one underneath the cloak, and, as quietly as possible, they shuffled to the open door in the floor and made their way down. At the last moment, Ron took one last look at himself on the floor, a thought sent his own way...

_Don't worry. She's going to be alright. You're going to save her._

Their heads cleared the ceiling of the level below, and through the commotion coming from downstairs as the carriage was loaded, no one would ever be able to hear their footsteps on the creaky stairs leading down to the ground floor. They came into view of the carriage, Aurors surrounding it and speaking in hushed voices, some actually smoking just outside the building. But there was an opening, a way in. The carriage door had not yet been shut.

"Now," Harry said, and together they dodged Auror after Auror until they reached the door.

Ron gasped as he was suddenly standing face to face with Hermione's body, covered in a thick gray blanket and laid out across the carriage seats. But Harry gave Ron a much needed shove, and they climbed in seconds before the door was shut. Crammed into the back of the carriage, Ron was forced up against Hermione's body. He sucked air in and did not let it back out again until the carriage began to move.

Without control, his hand moved out towards her, his fingers achingly close to her hand where it had slid slightly out from under the blanket.

"No," Harry hissed in Ron's ear, taking ahold of Ron's wrist to stop him from revealing himself out from under the cloak. "Soon..." Harry reminded him.

They would arrive soon at the morgue where Hermione's body was left overnight. This was the part of the plan that had the most holes in it, surprisingly. They had to hope that no one was there at this time of night, that her body would be left for someone to tend to the next morning. It was the only way they were going to get out of there tonight, the only way of reviving her before sunrise...

* * *

**June 8, 1998**

The carriage bumped over a rocky part of the road, and Ron and Harry squeezed together to remain hidden. On they went for over an hour, Ron losing patience, desperate to revive Hermione... to be sure she was really alright.

"Harry... how much longer?" Ron asked under his breath, knowing that Harry wouldn't know the answer any better than he would.

Harry shrugged against Ron, but soon, the carriage was slowing down, and Ron felt his stomach flip as he realized they were arriving... The carriage finally rumbled to a stop, and the driver got out and opened the door. Ron held his breath, and he and Harry squeezed against the inside of the carriage as the driver and his partner lifted Hermione's body out. Ron watched carefully, making sure they were gentle with her, but in his distraction, Harry nudged him to exit the carriage and follow the others inside.

They cleared the door at the absolute last moment before the second man turned and shut it with the heel of his boot. Down a long, white hall, a quick turn to the right, and they were all standing in the middle of a room full of metal tables with large drawers lining one wall. The two men steadied Hermione's body as they opened one of the drawers and pulled out the thin, metal table inside. They slid her carefully onto the table, rolled it back into the wall, and shut the drawer again.

Ron tensed up next to Harry, wanting desperately to get Hermione out. It was like she was already inside a coffin. He imagined the darkness inside the tiny space she had been left in. It was making him claustrophobic just to think of it...

And finally, with one last sad look shared between them, the two men left the room. The door shut behind them with a click, and Harry ducked out from under the cloak to lean his ear against the door and listen for their footsteps at the end of the hall. He heard the front door open and shut again, and he turned back to face Ron who was rushing out of the cloak now and over to Hermione's drawer.

Ron pulled the drawer open and stared in at the dark, cold interior... and Hermione's still body inside, still covered in the thick blanket from the carriage. He swallowed his nerves as Harry moved to stand on the opposite side of the open drawer. And together, they rolled out the table. It clicked into place and they stared down at Hermione, hearts pounding, breathing through their mouths. Hermione's hand was still peeking out from under the blanket, her fingers curled gently in her sleep.

Ron exhaled raggedly and, shaking, he reached up to the top edge of the blanket with both hands. He shivered, drew in a sharp breath, and pulled back the blanket.

Her beautiful face was revealed, and Ron let out a nervous cry as he stared down at her, his eyes watering.

Harry looked away from Hermione to share a glance with Ron. Nodding, Ron knew what he had to do next. He removed his wand from his back pocket...

He took a deep breath and aimed his wand at Hermione's chest.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** Sorry for the delay on this chapter! I was home over the weekend... with a broken computer :( Back at my office computer today, so I'll be posting the rest of the chapters this week!_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Permoveo..." Ron whispered, his wand more steady than he expected to be able to pull off.

They had found this new spell in Ron's book describing the man who had lived and been revived after a silenced killing curse had been sent his way. Up until now, the spell had been a bit of an unknown to Harry and Ron. This was their first practical application of it, but they had seen no way around this. They couldn't very well curse each other with a silent Avada Kedavra and attempt to revive the other...

But Hermione didn't budge, her body still as rigid and lifeless as it had been a moment ago.

"Harry..." Ron said helplessly.

"Together," said Harry, removing his own wand from his back pocket.

"Permoveo," they said together. Hermione twitched.

They gasped and jumped back slightly, eyes wide.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron shouted, leaning over Hermione and touching the tip of his wand to her chest. "Again!"

"Permoveo!" they shouted. She moved again, and behind her eyelids, her eyes rolled.

"It's working!" Ron laughed nervously, his skin tingling with excitement. "More!"

"Permoveo!"

Her lips parted. Her hand clenched slightly into a fist as if searching for her wand. And... her eyes fluttered open.

"Holy shit!" Harry shouted, eyes popping as he stared down at her. Ron was rendered speechless, his grip slackening on his wand. It fell with a clatter to the floor.

Hermione gasped suddenly, taking in a huge breath, and she immediately choked, coughing as she tried to sit up. Ron wanted to help her, but he found that none of his limbs worked. His parted lips quivered and eyes squinted as a steady stream of tears emptied from his wet eyes.

Harry moved forward like a sleepwalker and steadied her with a shaky hand on her back as she sat up. Stunned, he looked from Hermione to Ron where he stood motionless, his arms limp and useless at his sides. Hermione controlled her coughing enough to look over at Ron... and the moment he looked into her eyes, his knees gave out and he stumbled against the table, clutching it so he wouldn't fall completely.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted hoarsely, concerned as she watched him totally failing to regain any composure at the sight of her. His body could have been made of jelly. His eyes were red and puffy, tears still staining his cheeks, rolling off his jaw.

"Y-you're a-al-live..." he choked.

"I'm okay, I'm fine," she said hoarsely, trying to reassure him as he clambered closer to her, his hands quivering against the cold metal table. She leaned closer.

And then she _touched _him... her hand against his cheek.

He sobbed loudly, suddenly, his eyes glued to her face.

"Ron, what's wrong?" Hermione pleaded, looking to Harry for help. But he was just as speechless as he watched the two of them. "What's going on?" Hermione demanded.

Hermione slid her legs over the side of the table and climbed off, vaguely unstable on her feet. She dropped down and settled on the floor next to Ron. He watched her in awe, thunderstruck.

And then everything hit him like a ton of bricks. He could touch her. She was real. Alive. He could _hold _her...

His arms finally worked again. Blood moved once more through his veins. He sat up on his knees, facing her. And he pulled her towards him, her concerned face moving closer and closer as she tentatively hugged him back.

He could feel her. She was still warm... and he wasn't dreaming. Not anymore.

"We... we thought you were _dead_," Harry finally said slowly from where he still stood at the side of the table.

Trembling, Ron rested his forehead against Hermione's...

"But... I'm _not_..." she half-whispered to Ron, so tenderly and gently.

Ron laughed through his tears, hysterically shaking, her arms around his waist awkwardly from their strained position on the floor.

"The tent..." Harry said automatically, his brain unable to comprehend everything fully, resorting to the plan instead, the one thing he knew so well he could recite it now in his sleep. "We need to go set up the tent... in case someone comes back."

Ron moved his hands against Hermione's back, his fingers stretching out over her sweater. Her muscles moved in his hands as she shifted against him, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Where are we?" she asked breathlessly as if the mere proximity she was sharing with Ron was overpowering her.

Harry swallowed visibly as he rolled Hermione's table back into the wall and closed the door.

"Morgue," he said thickly.

Hermione looked away from Ron to furrow her eyebrows at Harry.

"Why?" she said. But it was clear that comprehension was dawning as she looked around, taking everything in. "You thought I was _dead_..." she whispered.

Ron lowered his head to her shoulder, his nose against her neck, soaking the collar of her sweater in his tears as he inhaled deeply, shakily.

"You really thought I was dead!" Hermione exclaimed, stunned.

"Yeah," Harry breathed, running a hand through his hair. "We did."

"I remember something..." Hermione began slowly, thinking hard... her eyes widened. "Oh! Did he get away?" Hermione asked, pulling away from Ron.

He was very reluctant to let go, but she was intent on standing up, so he had no choice but to release her. He watched her as she felt her pockets for her wand.

"Harry, where's my wand?" she asked.

"We've... got it..." Harry said slowly, clearly not ready to reveal the full truth, all of its complexities swirling around between them. His eyes appeared to be permanently stuck wide open now. "We'll tell you everything. But we have to get out of here now."

Ron finally stood, eyes glued to Hermione as she moved towards the door, lifting her legs and shaking them as if they were asleep.

"How long was I knocked out for?" Hermione asked, trying to warm up her stiff muscles.

Harry looked at Ron, hoping to share a glance, but even though Ron could feel Harry's eyes on him, waiting, he couldn't tear himself away from Hermione... and he wasn't even going to try.

Harry finally moved and brushed against Ron as he followed Hermione to the door. Harry opened the door and peeked cautiously out into the hallway before glancing back at Hermione as if she might disappear. But she turned to face Ron, staring at him as he stared back, his chest heaving as he breathed.

"Ron..." Hermione said softly as she headed back towards him. Feet away from him now, Ron stretched out a numb hand, begging her with his eyes to take it. He didn't need to beg. She smiled shyly and linked their fingers together. Ron blinked slowly, trying not to close his eyes at the pleasure he felt. He couldn't let her out of his sight for even a moment.

"We should apparate from in here," Harry said, pulling out the cloak again. "Under here," he instructed, slipping under and holding up the edge for Ron and Hermione.

Hermione stepped under first, pulling Ron behind her. After a quick adjustment to be sure they were all covered, crouching to accommodate all three fully grown adults, Harry nodded and took a strong hold of both Ron and Hermione's arms.

"Hold on tight," Harry said, closing his eyes.

In the moment before they were squeezed away into Disapparation, Ron tightened his grip on Hermione's hand, trying to believe what was happening, that she was real. But it was as if his brain could not understand it or comprehend it at all. He was unable to accept it fully, to really know that it was real...

They Apparated into the middle of the woods, a surprisingly peaceful patch with a small moonlit clearing a few feet in front of them.

Harry released Ron and Hermione and ducked out from under the cloak, pulling it off the other two in the process and balling it up. He stuffed it into his backpack and pulled out a tiny, familiar tent, waving his wand at it to return it to its normal size. He set up camp, methodically moving around, skilled from nearly a year of camping every night...

But even though Harry gave off the appearance of taking control, being rational enough to take the lead, when he finally turned to face Ron and Hermione again, it was obvious that he was far more shaken than he had even begun to let on yet. His legs trembled and arms twitched as if he was freezing, though it was far from cold. If anything, Ron and Harry had overdressed for June, having come here from February...

"You were dead, Hermione," Harry said again, staring at her. "You _were_."

"You might have _thought _that I was, Harry, but I _wasn't_," she began, but Harry shook his head in a slightly maniacal way.

Ron stepped closer to her, needing to _feel _her presence again as Harry continued to convince him of the absurdity of it being possible at all...

"No. I swear to you, Hermione, you were dead. Ron knows it. I know it."

Hermione looked confusedly from Harry to Ron and back again.

"Trust me," Harry said, and he lifted the tent flap, waiting for Ron and Hermione to walk inside. Ron followed Hermione, glaring slightly at Harry as he passed through, pausing out of Hermione's earshot to lean down and whisper into Harry's ear...

"Is it real or not? Did it work... or not?" It was almost accusatory, like the fact that Harry seemed to be questioning everything somehow made it less likely to be true, made what Ron was seeing with his own eyes far less reliable.

Harry didn't have time to reply as Ron set a course towards Hermione where she sat on the couch. He sat cautiously next to her, eyes on her as she studied him.

"Explain," she said, looking up at Harry as he stood before them. She crossed her arms over her chest. Ron scooted an inch closer to her, his right leg against her left. Contact was his only proof. And could he even trust that...?

"Eight months ago, we watched you _die _in that awful place... The Death Eater you saw tonight... he killed you." Harry said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Eight months ago?" Hermione asked, bewildered. Then, her confused eyes reflected comprehension as she gasped. "I was in the morgue for eight months? That can't be right!"

"No!" Ron said quickly, squeezing against her more firmly, draping an arm over the back of the couch so she was pressed against his side, her shoulder under his arm. "You..." He swallowed, overwhelmed by what he had caused... their closeness. He cleared his throat as she looked into his eyes, waiting for the answer she needed. "For _you_, it's only been a few hours. But for _us_..."

"You're not making sense," Hermione said, trying to remain patient as Ron struggled to find the right words. Harry collapsed into the arm chair that faced the couch, worn out from everything, accepting Ron's place again as leader as he fumbled through his explanation...

"On June 7, you... you died," Ron choked. "And... and I couldn't accept it. Harry made me a promise... see, I worked on a plan, a way to bring you back..."

Hermione stared at Ron as if she had never seen him before, her lips parted as he continued...

"I... I realized that if we could go back to the moment you were killed, back in time, then we could stop it from ever happening..."

"Back in time?" Hermione whispered, horrified.

Ron reached under his shirt and pulled out the time turner, showing her. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

"Ron!" she scolded through her fingers. "Tell me this is a joke!"

Ron dropped the time turner to his chest and wiped at his tear filled eyes with the back of his hand. He wasn't sure if he would ever stop crying...

"No. No joke," he said as his breath caught in his throat in an attempt to remain composed.

Hermione slid back from him slightly as she lowered her hands from her mouth, appalled.

"Hermione," Harry interjected, blinking at the sound of her name coming from his own mouth... actually _directed _at her, alive again and here before them. He had evidently regained some of his senses and was trying to be logical again. "We were so careful. We didn't change anything. Remember what we did in third year with Buckbeak and Sirius? It's just like that."

Hermione shook her head, unable to speak.

"Listen, I thought it was mental too, when Ron first came to me with this. And now... bloody hell, now I don't even know how I'm really here... _looking _at you... It's absurd and I..." Harry trailed off, shaking his head, awed and confused. "I had accepted that I'd never see you again. I really had."

Ron stared at Harry, sadness and some resentment reflected in his eyes.

"But then we made it back from February to June and... and we _saw _you again. And honestly, I hadn't snapped out of it until now... not enough to really understand what we'd _done_..." Harry trailed off.

"How do we know we haven't gone batty?" Ron asked, begging Harry for an answer. "This could all be in my head..."

"Then it's in mine too," Harry rationalized.

"Am I dreaming too, then?" Hermione asked. Ron and Harry jumped at the sound of her voice as if they had both expected her to have disappeared during their conversation. "Because it's beginning to feel like I might be..."

Ron wiped the tears from his face again, tears he hadn't known had even fallen.

"I don't know how to believe," Ron said, his voice hoarse. "How can I? I hadn't accepted anything in all those months! I would have never..." He faced Harry fully, his eyes pleading for something... "But actually being able to _see _her again and... and hear her voice..."

"Ron, I'm right here!" Hermione shouted, exasperated with everything, still confused and upset.

He jumped and turned, staring into her eyes. He felt her breath on his shoulder as she scooted back under his arm.

"You're not crazy. I'm not a ghost, I'm not dead, I'm not a dream..."

"...a-and even if you were," Ron sighed, finally understanding the truth, leaning down so his forehead nearly touched hers, "I wouldn't want to wake up."

"I never thought it would work," Harry admitted in a barely audible voice, interrupting Ron and Hermione's shared gaze. Ron glanced over at Harry again, waiting for him to go on. "I'm sorry," Harry continued, shaking his head, "but I really... I _really _thought we'd fail. I thought I'd have to carry you back here, Ron, and force you to eat and pull you through your life because..." He choked up and paused.

"You didn't trust me," Ron said, though he wasn't accusing Harry. He had known, in some small way, that his own blind stumble into this ludicrous plan had been one-sided. Harry had tried every angle to get Ron to give it up. But in the end, he had given in, and Ron had let him, knowing all along that Harry was doing this for him...

"It wasn't about trust, Ron," Harry sighed. "You asked me to follow you... and I did. I saw what it did to you, the hope of seeing Hermione alive again. Hope was what I had been convinced I wouldn't see from you ever again. And it was like old times. We were working together, and in a weird way, I think we were happy, or as close to it as you could ever be after..."

Hermione leaned further against Ron's side, resting her head on his shoulder. He swallowed as his heart leapt into his throat.

"You know what?" Harry started, interrupting his own previous line of conversation. "I think I know what's bothering me the most about this, why it's so hard for me to admit that it really worked... Ron, I was so sure that it was a long shot, that you were going to be let down in the end, that I might have actually _stopped _you if I hadn't seen the way you'd changed so drastically back to who you were before. And if I had done _that_, if I had forced you not to go through with it or refused to help you..."

Harry shook his head and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"If I'd done that... Hermione wouldn't be alive right now."

"Harry..." Ron said slowly, slightly dizzy from everything they'd been through. "You have to stop thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't made the choices you did. That's the whole point of a choice. No one forced you to do what you did, to come here with me and help me..."

Harry really seemed to take Ron's words to heart. He smiled slightly and nodded.

"Okay, you're right," he admitted. "God, we're really together again..."

Ron rested his head against Hermione's, grinning.

"We should talk about tomorrow," Harry continued, regaining his composure through something familiar.

Ron nodded, though his grin slipped from his face as he lifted his head to look down at Hermione. She leaned off his shoulder and met his eyes, waiting for him to explain.

"We can't change anything, right?" Ron began. Hermione nodded, looking a bit dazed still from all the information she had just been given. "Then you'll have to... you'll have to go back to the morgue in the morning."

"Dawn," Harry said. "We'll take you there at dawn."

"You'll have to be where they put you last night so no one realizes you were ever missing," Ron continued, looking a little disgusted and nervous about admitting the terrible things he was about to ask Hermione to do. "You'll have to... go back inside that _drawer_..." He said the word with loathing, imagining how awful it was going to be for her to have to lie there waiting...

"This is so bizarre..." Hermione breathed. "I don't get it. I remember... being cursed... a green light..."

"We never really explained that part, did we," Harry said, realizing. "We were in the room with you, in the attic-"

"I know. We came up through the floor-" Hermione began, but Harry shook his head, interrupting her.

"No. _We _were with you too, _us _from the future..." Harry said slowly, waiting for Hermione to catch up. She blinked, shook her head, and motioned for Harry to go on. "We were there under the cloak. Just before the Death Eater cursed you, we silenced him. I was the one who... who shouted the curse. So it didn't actually kill you, just stunned you really seriously."

"We went with the carriage to the morgue, still under the cloak," Ron said, picking up Harry's story. "And then we revived you. Everyone thinks you're dead. We're the only ones who know otherwise. So you have to fake it until after... the _funeral_... Then we'll have to hide out here until we... catch up with ourselves, with real time, until the day we went back."

Hermione blinked, staring, stunned, up at Ron.

"This is the most insane thing we've ever done," she breathed. "Ron, you saved my life... you really..." She stopped, her eyes wide and awed as she continued to stare back at him.

He blushed and shrugged as the temperature seemed to rise around him.

"You believe us now?" Harry asked, grinning sideways at Hermione as he stood and stretched from the arm chair.

Hermione turned towards him, nodding very slowly, almost shocking herself with her own admission. Harry smiled fully as he opened his arms.

"C'mere, Hermione," he said.

She stood from the couch, pulling away from Ron. Ron's arm fell limply from the back of the couch to the seat cushions as Harry embraced Hermione, squeezing her tightly, closing his eyes.

"You about done?" Ron asked as he stood from the couch and stretched too. Harry pulled back from Hermione and caught Ron's raised eyebrows and lopsided smile.

"Prat," Harry said, grinning too.

Hermione took another step back from Harry, smiling at both of them, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"We should go to bed," Harry said. "It's..." -he glanced at his watch, raised his eyebrows- "nearly 3am!"

"Okay," Ron said, yawning appropriately.

He glanced towards the bunks, thinking about which one he'd take. He had become used to the bottom bunk by the very back, covered in shadow, light from the candles in the center of the room unable to reach it. From where he was standing now, it actually looked cozy. But... then it occurred to him that Hermione's old camp bed was a little too far away from his for his liking at the moment... though anything more than a few inches from him was too far...

Before he could finish considering his options, biting his lip absently, Hermione took his hand shyly and pulled him towards his bunk. Unable to comprehend what was happening, he followed her, his legs moving of their own accord.

"Mind if we share?" Hermione half-whispered when they were out of earshot of Harry, her eyes darting nervously, cast down so he couldn't see them properly.

"Wh..." Ron spluttered, trying to compose himself. She wanted to share his bed? They had never done _that _before... It was totally brilliant! "Uh, I... uh..."

When he still failed to form the words that his brain was shouting, he sat on the bed, still holding onto Hermione's hand, and tugged her gently towards him. She smiled vaguely at him as she sat next to him, glancing over at Harry. But he was grinning broadly, not looking their way as he rummaged through his backpack, but definitely giving off the impression that he had just witnessed their awkward exchange. Hermione blushed deep scarlet as Ron reached down to take off his shoes for something to do, his neck burning...

Hermione took off her own shoes, then reached for the hem of her sweater as Ron stood, turning around so he was facing her as he reached up to untuck the blankets and sheets... She tugged her sweater over her head, and for a second, Ron's heart stopped and he froze. Her tight white tank top underneath clung desperately to the sweater, trying to come off with it. Ron was presented with an up close view of her bare stomach for an incredible moment before she readjusted her clothing, dropping her sweater to the floor and very purposefully not looking directly at Ron.

He finally found the ability to breathe and move once more as Hermione scooted back and crawled up to the head of the bed, against the wall. She tucked her legs under the sheet, still very pointedly avoiding Ron's eyes. Even in the shadows, Ron could see the flush on her cheeks, so rosy and almost glowing. It was... distracting...

Ron cleared his throat and pulled off his own jumper, much more careful with his own shirt, though he felt a bit of freckled skin exposing itself at the last second, and when he finally re-emerged from under the jumper, he actually caught Hermione _staring _at him. Hardly believing that it was possible, Ron shook his head and dropped his jumper on top of Hermione's, pausing to blink at them there together on the floor... next to his bed...

And then, with nothing left to do to distract himself from Hermione, nothing remaining to stall him from where he was heading, he gathered his courage, knowing that _she _was the one who had asked for this, and climbed into the bed next to her.

"Okay?" he asked, his voice so close to cracking as he settled against the pillow, waiting for Hermione to do the same.

She nodded and settled onto her back, both of them staring up at the underside of Harry's old bunk.

Harry.

Ron had not considered Harry during all of this, not since seeing that stupid sly look on Harry's face a few minutes ago... Where was he now?

Ron looked around the room to his left, trying to find him. And almost immediately, he spotted him tucking into bed... on the couch. Ron felt a wave of relief mixed with excited terror wash over him at the thought that Harry had left them, allowing them as much privacy as could be afforded in a tent together.

And then, to his right, Hermione moved, and he turned back to her instantly to find her on her side, facing him, staring back at him, her eyes bright and round...

"Ron?" she whispered, looking so nervous and small as he tried to answer her.

But he couldn't make a sound, so he cleared his throat again as he turned onto his own side, facing her too and blocking Harry's view of Hermione altogether.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, her lips moving but hardly any sound coming out. Ron didn't have to wonder what she'd said, however, and he sighed, his hand begging him to touch her, though he didn't comply... not yet.

"W-why do you think?" he asked back, gazing at her as his eyes filled again with tears...

"You could have died too..." she whispered, appalled, like she had just admitted something terrible.

"I didn't care," Ron said slowly.

She sucked in a breath and instantly, she was crying, though she made no sound, her eyes still fixed on Ron's.

"Wh-_why_, Ron?" she asked, so soft and fragile, like if he wasn't careful with his next words, she might fall apart.

"Because... I love you... and... I couldn't live without you."

He had said it. The words could not be sucked back in for him to hide again, to give him another chance to say it properly. He had never planned it out, never thought of when or where he'd tell her. He just knew that someday, he'd have to do it. And now had become the right time even as the words were forming on his lips.

"Thought you must have known that," Ron whispered, relieving his nerves through his words, desperate to lighten the mood as Hermione continued to cry. "You're too smart not to have guessed..."

She shook her head as tears fell in quick succession onto the pillow they shared. Sniffing, she wiped her face clean, but new tears fell in place of the old ones. Frustrated, she tried to wipe away the new ones too. Then, looking back up at Ron finally, breathing through her mouth, she scooted closer... closer... until she was touching him, her legs tangling with his, her hands against his chest.

A shiver rolled through him from head to toe, and he knew she felt it. She smiled nervously, reacting to his pleasure at her touch...

"I... I didn't know..." she said innocently, softly, her lips trembling.

"Didn't you?" Ron managed to say, his mouth dry, lips desperate to be licked. He complied, watching as she took notice of his tongue.

"I... I hoped," she continued, eyes glued to his lips. His shallow breathing was too obvious... he was clinging to her now, though he couldn't remember wrapping his arms around her. And he needed one more thing from her...

"Is that all?" he whispered finally, when it seemed like an eternity had passed between them. His heart was pounding against her hands.

Gasping, her fists clenched into his shirt. And she moved closer, so her breath warmed his lips.

"I love you too!" she breathed, her eyes round and shocked that she had forgotten to tell him, left him alone, ahead of her, to wait for her to catch up.

When all Ron could do was grin broadly, almost drunkenly, she shivered and opened her mouth again, her lips actually too close to not be touching his... it seemed impossible.

"I thought _you _knew..." she said, hardly making a sound, but she closed the distance between them, the distance that had honestly seemed nonexistent before, but now stretched out behind them as if they had traveled across a galaxy to arrive here.

Eight months since he'd last seen her, heard her... kissed her. A few hours, maybe a day at most for her. He counted every kiss in his head, each one flashing as if happening all at once right now all over again... for the first time.

How many had there been?

The Room of Requirement. The common room. The Hogwarts kitchens the next morning. At night, under the stars of the Burrow's back yard. His bedroom, twice. Ginny's room, nervous and a bit guilty. Outside the Ministry, barely touching. By the lake at Hogwarts. In the Forbidden Forrest on their first mission. The trail when they'd been separated from Harry, distracted. Just before she vanished before him, Apparating first to reach the place where he'd seen her... for the _last time_.

He opened his eyes wide, staring back at her delicately closed and fluttering eyelids.

He had disappeared somehow, gone to a place inside his own head, the place he had created when she'd left him...

She opened her eyes suddenly, stared back at him, and pulled away. She knew where he'd gone...

"I... keep forgetting..." she whispered. "It feels, to me, like... we've never been apart."

"I know," he breathed, running a hand along her arm, goosebumps forming on her skin along the path he took.

He ran his hand up, up through her thick hair, tickling his palm.

"Hermione," he said, delighting in the way her name formed on his lips, in his own voice, and not as a cry in the dark, wondering where she could be.

She waited for him to say more, patient as her fingers played with the thin fabric of the front of his t-shirt. He grinned, knowing he would surprise her with his next words.

"I'm older than you now."

She stared blankly at him, thrown off by his seemingly random statement. And then, as Ron watched the gears turn behind her eyes, she grinned.

"Does this mean I have to stop bossing you around?" she whispered.

"No. Please, don't," he said, smiling back at her, still so close.

She blinked heavily, and he rested his forehead against hers, tangling their legs together under the blanket.

"Promise you'll be here when I wake up?" Ron asked hoarsely, hardly a whisper.

"I promise," Hermione breathed, her nose touching Ron's briefly as she shifted against him.

Her hands relaxed their hold on his shirt, and though his legs felt a bit stiff in his jeans, he had never been more comfortable.

* * *

It couldn't be dawn already... he had just fallen asleep. But Harry was moving about already, preparing tea.

Something didn't feel right. Ron's arms were light, limp... like they had been doing something that they had now been relieved of... suddenly.

Gasping, suddenly fully awake, he pushed up onto his elbow, patting the empty mattress next to him. He tangled his sheets between his feet, and all around him, it felt like... it _seemed_ like... but no. It didn't make sense...

The walls were... melting? Harry was no longer standing in the... room?

He was alone. It was too dark to be dawn.

He half-fell out of bed, dragging the sheets and blankets with him. Untangling himself, pulling himself up again, his eyes wide, he spun around his room. _His _room!

No! He was in _her _apartment, in _her _bed... the place he'd called home for eight long months now.

He tried to shout, to call her name, but he couldn't speak, like someone had cursed him.

It couldn't be real. He had been so convinced of her presence, that she had really returned to him. That his idiotic plan had worked!

Devastated, confused, he felt his legs collapsing under him.

But he was falling much too far...

"Ron?"

He opened his eyes. But how was it possible? He'd been awake... hadn't he?

"Ron?"

And then he saw her. The tent swirled around him, then stopped dead. He was _here_. _This_ was home, not where he'd just been... and the only reason was because...

"You're _here_..."

He couldn't breathe.

"Of course I am," she said softly. "I promised, didn't I?"

And at the same moment, he realized three things - he was squeezing her wrist, his jeans were twisted uncomfortably and low around his waist, and his cheeks were covered in tears.

He opened his mouth to speak his relief, but no words could escape. He was beyond words now.

He released Hermione's wrist and, sitting up against the head of the bunk, he pulled her against him, delighted when she squeezed him just as enthusiastically back.

Harry had vanished, disappeared into the small kitchen most likely. And Ron closed his eyes as he breathed deeply, Hermione's hair tickling his nose.

She pulled her head back, looked up into his eyes, then took in the state of his cheeks, still tear stained and wet. With the soft back of her hand, she wiped them away, not quite looking directly at him.

"Sorry," came Harry's guilty voice from across the room, "but we should get going."

When Ron looked over, Harry's head was turned away. Ron had a sense of how awkward this was going to get for Harry eventually, and he secretly hoped that Harry would find some other place to camp, another tent perhaps, for the rest of their time here.

Hermione was the first to move, sitting up and sliding over Ron's legs to climb out of bed. She unlaced her shoes before putting them on, something Ron always grinned about. He never took the time for such details, usually destroying the backs of his shoes in the process of putting them on in the most lazy way imaginable, simply shoving his feet into them and forcing it to work.

It was odd, how much he missed such minute details of her, frustrated pouts that could only be discerned by those who knew her closest, the way she'd roll her ankles to pop them after a long day...

She put on her jumper again, no skin revealed to his waiting eyes this time. And he stood, finally getting ready to go, remembering how important it was to get this right, that everything rested on his ability to concentrate, even with her here now, safely back with him. It wasn't over. Not yet.

"Ready?" Harry called, holding out the invisibility cloak for them to climb under.

Hermione took Ron's hand so naturally that it made his heart skip, and together, they walked under the cloak, squished together to completely cover themselves.

Ron, being the tallest, stood in the middle, clutching his wand, and he lifted his arms over Harry and Hermione's shoulders to pull them towards him, heads against his collarbones. Squeezing them, Harry chuckling, Ron twisted his body and they vanished as one with a soft pop.

When they arrived at the morgue, Ron and Harry held their wands high, aimed at the only door into the cold, quiet room. When it was clear that no one was there yet, they lowered their wands, and Harry removed the cloak.

"Should be here any time now," Ron whispered to Hermione, rushing over to the drawer they had taken her out of the night before.

Hermione stood frozen, watching as Ron rolled out the shiny metal table that she was about to have to climb onto.

"Okay, I think we should stun you," Ron said as he watched her, forehead creased with concern. "It'll be easier for you to play dead... and you won't even know what's happening..."

"I don't know if I _want _to not know what's happening..." Hermione said as she stared into the dark drawer she would soon inhabit.

"It'll be fine," Ron said, trying to sound reassuring. "We'll be right here the whole time. If anything happens..."

But Harry gave Ron a warning look, one that said that they wouldn't actually be _able _to do anything... if something went wrong.

Ron ignored Harry's raised eyebrows and returned his attention to Hermione, who still looked quite nervous. But she met his eyes and held his gaze. She trusted him. He could feel it.

"Okay," she said, stepping forward finally. "Stun me."

He nodded mutely as she climbed up onto the table, lying on her back, rigid and stiff.

"Is this right?" she asked, looking up at Ron where he stood tall over her.

"Yeah," he said, throat dry as he remembered what it had been like to see her there, unsure if the plan had worked, if she'd ever wake up or if they were really looking at her... dead.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said, closing her eyes.

But as Ron stared down at her, his wand hand shook, and he wasn't sure he could do it.

"Hermione," he said, bending over her, palms pressed into the table on either side of her, wand clattering noisily against the metal.

She opened her eyes and found herself so close to him, eyes staring straight back into hers.

"We can do this, it'll be fine..." he said, needing her reassurance. And she nodded slowly, calm settling between them. "Okay," he nodded, standing up straight again as she closed her eyes once more.

But he felt her hand on his wrist, squeezing. Before he could respond, she dropped her arm to her side again and remained perfectly still, waiting.

"I'm sorry if this hurts..." he said slowly, wincing as he realized it probably would. But she shook her head, a tiny movement against the table, and he took a deep breath.

Harry watched from a few feet back, his focus nervously shifting from Ron and Hermione to the door that led to the hallway.

And with one last breath, Ron held his wand steady, aimed directly at Hermione's chest.

"Stupefy!"

Her body jolted slightly, then went completely stiff. Harry stepped forward finally and slid the drawer shut, but Ron remained frozen, watching as her feet slipped out of view... and for the first time since saving her, she was out of his sight.

Wordlessly, Harry threw the cloak over himself and Ron, and he linked arms with Ron, back stepping towards the wall behind them.

Mere seconds later, footsteps echoed in the hall outside.

Whistling. And then the door was opening.

Ron and Harry flinched at the rough sound, the harsh echo off the metal tables and surfaces of the room. An elderly man entered the room, removed his cloak, and walked slowly towards a large table in the center of the room. He lit a tall candle next to it and began adjusting tools and bottles on the shelves nearby.

Ron watched with interest, stomach in nervous knots for some reason. This was one of the parts they knew the least about, how this was going to work. What needed to be done to get someone ready for a coffin?

The man put on a large gray cloak over his jumper, slipped on a pair of see-through gloves, and picked up a chart, reading through it carefully from over the top of his tiny spectacles. And then, nodding, he set the chart down on the table and walked purposefully towards Hermione's drawer. Without realizing it, Ron had gripped Harry's arm and was squeezing tightly...

The man pulled out the drawer and Hermione's body was slowly revealed to them, as still as it had been the night they'd come to save her. Ron swallowed, reminding himself that she was fine, and watched as the little wizard lifted his wand and swished it through the air. Hermione's body rose a few feet off the table top, levitated as the wizard walked slowly back towards the large table in the center of the room, pulling Hermione's body through thin air with him. When she was hovering over the large table, he lowered her gently and pocketed his wand again.

"What a shame," he muttered, sadly looking down at her and shaking his head.

He adjusted two more candles, lighting them and turning them to give him better visibility, and then he began coating a soft rag in liquid from a clear bottle, dabbing it over Hermione's face.

Ron looked down at Harry with raised eyebrows, but quickly returned his attention to Hermione, watching her and the little wizard with interest.

The wizard made his way around the table, dabbing the liquid on Hermione's neck, and finally, he came to a halt on the side closest to Ron and Harry, completely blocking their view.

"What's happening?" Ron mouthed to Harry, but Harry shook his head, clutching Ron's arm and trying to move slowly left, hoping to regain a view of Hermione.

But then the little wizard stepped away completely, removing a large pair of scissors from a rack and returning to his original position on the other side of the table. Ron's eyes went wide as he waited to see what was going to happen, running through all possible reasons for the scissors...

The wizard began working Hermione's jumper off her body, snipping it where it wouldn't come easily. And, realizing now exactly what the scissors were for, Ron's jaw dropped. How far would this go?

The jumper was tossed aside, and the man began working Hermione's white tank top up her stomach, revealing way too much skin. Ron and Harry looked at each other at the same moment, guilty, shocked expressions as they wordlessly asked each other what to do now. Ron chanced another glance in Hermione's direction, though Harry continued to stare up at Ron, waiting for a decision to be made.

Hermione's top was being pulled gently over her head now, and as Ron took in the sight of her lying there in a bra and jeans, he felt a shock wave through his torso, like a small lightning storm inside his body, and, grabbing Harry's arm, he roughly turned them around, backs facing Hermione now.

For some reason, even with his back to her, he still felt the need to clamp his eyes shut, trying to remove the image of her, so exposed, completely from his mind. What would she think if she knew he'd seen her like that... especially when she hadn't been conscious for it? And then it occurred to him that, based on the sounds coming from behind them, a zipper being pulled down, the wizard preparing her body would probably see... everything.

It made Ron feel a bit sick, and he tried desperately not to think about it.

The room slowly fell silent, and, just when Ron was on the point of becoming too anxious and curious _not _to turn back around and be sure everything was okay, the little wizard shouted, startling Harry and Ron yet again.

"Mort?" he called out. "Hey, Mort!"

The door banged open, and Ron heard footsteps as another man entered the room.

"What do ya need, Barney?"

"Have you got her new robes, the ones that were supposed to be sent over?"

"Yeah, got 'em in my office..." and the footsteps retreated into the hallway again.

And Ron looked down as Harry looked back up at him, and it was clear that they had both just realized how much sense this made now. Of course they'd want to bury Hermione in nice clean clothes. Her old jumper and jeans, the clothes she'd died in, were a bit dirty, and they carried the sickening memory of her death. That wasn't how they'd want her to go...

Ron shook his head. She wasn't dead. Not this time. And he smiled, feeling a lot more calm as he listened to the wizard moving around behind them.

But suddenly, the clanking sound of metal against metal rang out, alarming Ron as he tried, yet again, to line up some logical conclusion, some reason for the sounds he was hearing. But looking to his right at Harry again, he realized that he wasn't the only one who felt this wave of helpless concern. What was happening?

Against better judgment, knowing how important it was to be sure she was alright no matter what the consequences, no matter what he happened to see in the process, Ron turned back around. And his jaw dropped.

Hermione was completely naked, though he was squinting hard to avoid seeing her directly, to blur the details as he tried, desperately, to figure out, quickly, what the little wizard was doing. He was holding something... something that looked sharp. And in his other hand, there was a long tube which led to... some sort of container on the floor next to his feet. What the...

Ron was forced to focus more on the man's hand were it was mere inches now from Hermione's neck, and the moment his eyes adjusted, the moment he was finally able to see things properly, he gasped aloud and did three things in less than a second...

He reached for his wand, threw off the invisibility cloak, and aimed his wand at the little wizard's chest.

"Confundo!" he shouted.

He felt Harry tense up next to him.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed, completely overwhelmed as he turned towards the scene and emerged roughly from under the corner of the cloak that was still draped over his shoulders. "What the hell did you do?" Harry shouted as he looked from Ron's shaking hand and wide eyes to the little wizard who was blinking rapidly and staggering around on the opposite side of the table from them.

"He was going to kill her!" Ron yelled, voice cracking as he tried not to look directly at Hermione, watching the little wizard instead as he tried to remain balanced on his unsteady feet.

"What are you talking about?" Harry boomed, grabbing Ron's wrist firmly.

"He had a knife! He was holding it to her throat!"

"What..." Harry glanced at Hermione, the discarded tools on the table around her...

"Don't look!" Ron shouted seriously, roughly turning Harry to face him instead.

"I'm not looking at her, Ron! I'm just trying to figure out what the bloody hell just happened!"

"I... I had to!" Ron said desperately, voice wavering as it started to sink in, what he'd just done.

This was exactly what couldn't happen. They weren't allowed to change anything. And he'd just made one _gigantic _change... one that couldn't be undone now.

"Why?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"He had a knife, Harry. He was seconds, _seconds _from cutting her neck!"

"Oh..." Harry's eyes went wide all of a sudden. "He... I think... I think he was going to drain her blood!"

"What?" Ron stared down at Harry, horrified.

"I think they do that when they prepare a body for burial!" Harry looked so shocked, guilty for not having thought of this sooner.

"Shit!" Ron lowered his wand all the way to his side now. "Shit, Harry! What do we do now?"

Harry shook his head, lost.

"What happens when the other one comes back?" Ron asked frantically, dropping his voice .

"I... I don't know!" Harry whispered thickly, shrugging helplessly.

At the same moment, Harry and Ron turned their heads to look at the confused little wizard on the other side of the room. He was shaking his head now, staring down at his own feet.

Footsteps in the hall outside... slowly gaining volume.

And, knowing he had to do _something_, Ron sprinted towards Hermione erratically, moving the empty bucket on the floor under the table and out of view, hidden in shadow, tucking tubes and tools underneath at random, scattering them and swearing as he repositioned them.

Harry ran towards the now muttering wizard who seemed as clueless to Harry and Ron's presence as he had been before they'd revealed themselves to him.

"How do we reverse it?" Harry asked, looking helpless.

"Hermione would know..." Ron mumbled as he stood, trying fiercely to avoid looking down at her naked body, feet away from him.

"Under!" Harry hissed suddenly as the footsteps in the hallway stopped. Clattering much too loudly, Ron ducked under the cloak Harry was holding up, adjusting it to cover his feet just in time. The door swung open...

Another elderly wizard entered the room, a bit taller than the first, but holding very neatly pressed robes over one arm.

"Barney?" he asked, surveying the room with furrowed eyebrows.

Barney suddenly looked up as if only just realizing he wasn't alone.

"Mort..." he said, nodding, but looking absolutely blank. Mort held up his arm, indicating why he had returned...

"Here're the robes you wanted," Mort said, staring, confused, back at Barney. "You alright there, Barn?"

"Um, oh!" Barney said, stumbling towards Mort and catching himself on the side of the table. "Yes, yes. The robes. Yes..." But as Barney looked down at them, he lost himself in his gaze and Mort reached out to shake him.

"Did you finish in here already?" Mort asked, tilting his head in Hermione's directly, but not looking over at her. Ron was revealed that Mort seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her body altogether.

"I..." Barney looked back over at Hermione, blinked, and shook his head.

Ron tensed up as he watched Barney staring at Hermione...

"Yes, yes, I believe I did," Barney said, nodding finally, looking back up at Mort. He removed his gloves and discarded them before taking the robes from Mort, nodding again. "Just got a bit dazed there. Not enough sleep I suppose," Barney chuckled, straightening out his glasses.

His excuse seemed to be all Mort needed.

"Well, take a break if you need it."

"Got to dress her. Poor thing," he said, clucking his tongue as he looked back down at her sadly.

"Yeah," Mort agreed, nodding. "If you need me..."

"Yeah, yeah." Barney waved Mort away. "Thank you."

Mort turned and left without another word, and Ron finally, slowly, let out the breath he'd been holding. As long as Mort never thought another thing about Barney's strange behaviour, they'd all be fine... right?

Ron and Harry turned away as Barney dressed Hermione. When he'd finished, he levitated her back into her drawer, closing it with a sharp metallic echo. Ron chanced a glance at the drawer, knowing she was out of his sight now. And impatience built as he waited for Barney to leave. But he did no such thing...

He reviewed his chart, snapped on another pair of gloves, and opened another drawer, pulling out a man's body. He levitated the body, placed it on the main table, and began to clean it as he had done to Hermione's.

"What do we do know?" Ron mouthed down at Harry, panicking. They had to get Hermione out of there. He wasn't sure if she could breathe for long closed in like that.

Harry shrugged, glanced over his shoulder at Hermione's drawer, then returned his eyes to Barney and his second victim.

Footsteps in the hallway again, and Ron could only hope for something to take Barney away from this room for long enough to get Hermione out.

His wish came true in the form of a young witch with a stack of paperwork teetering on her arms.

"Mr. Grant?" she said, avoiding eye contact with the body Barney was working on. Barney turned and smiled at her.

"Yes, Sylvia," he said kindly.

"We've got another one, just coming in off the carriage. They need you out back," she said.

Barney nodded, snapped off his gloves, and followed her out of the room, the door banging shut again. And wordlessly, Ron and Harry slipped back out from under the cloak, slid open Hermione's drawer together, and aimed their wands at her chest.

"Enervate," they said simultaneously, and her eyes fluttered open. She clutched her chest for a moment and Ron felt a stab of painful guilt.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, pocketing his wand and helping her to sit up.

But as she prepared to answer him, she looked down, catching sight of what she was wearing.

"What... what happened?" she asked, confused.

"They uh," Ron began, his cheeks and ears reddening, "had to change your clothes. I guess that's what they do, to prepare people for burial..."

Hermione blushed furiously as she nodded, tucking her hair back behind her ears.

"We didn't look," Ron said, feeling half guilty for his tiny fib. They'd tell her everything later. But now, they had to get out.

"Ron, what if he comes back for her tonight?" Harry asked, frozen in place, a bit paler than usual.

"Why would they?" Ron asked. "Remember, we show up here in the morning..."

Ron grimaced, remembering how he had acted that day, how insane. They had been turned down when they asked to see her, and Ron had lost it, shouting and screaming until finally collapsing onto the floor. Harry had dragged him away, and hours later, they had arrived at the funeral, following the carriage from the morgue to the cemetery...

"Right," Harry said, sighing. "Okay, let's go before someone comes back."

Hermione hopped down off the table, and Ron slid the drawer shut again. Hermione ducked under the cloak between Harry and Ron and gripped both of their hands as Harry Disapparated the three of them together...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

They arrived in the middle of the tent, and, breathing raggedly, Harry ripped the cloak off of them. He stared at Ron, eyes boring into Ron's. And without needing Harry to say a word, Ron knew what he was thinking...

"Well, what did you expect me to do? !" Ron shouted, reaching down for Hermione's hand, pulling their linked hands up to his chest and squeezing.

Hermione leaned against him, looking up at him.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

Ron looked down at her guiltily, though Harry spoke first.

"Ron fucked up," Harry said.

Ron snapped his head up to glare at Harry, preparing his defense.

"I know," Harry said quickly, raising a hand to stop Ron in his tracks. "I'm sorry, I'm just..." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Maybe it'll be fine..." Ron said, trying to be optimistic, still defending his choice... or lack of one. As he saw it, he hadn't _had _a choice...

"What happened?" Hermione demanded again, voice stronger now.

"He... the wizard at the morgue... he was going to..." Ron swallowed, face paling, "...drain your blood."

Hermione's eyes widened as Ron lowered their joined hands, smoothing his thumb against hers.

"So, I had to Confund him," Ron finished.

Lips parting, Hermione looked from Ron to Harry and back again.

"He's right," Harry admitted, letting out a long breath as he slumped back onto the couch. "He didn't really have a choice."

"What did you do, after you'd Confunded him?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Well, he sort of... came to... and he seemed alright..." Ron muttered, feeling a little silly admitting it. He should have done more...

"Did anyone notice?" Hermione asked, adopting her usual logical tone, taking control.

"Well..." Ron began.

"Another wizard came into the room, seemed a bit worried," Harry said, the back of his head all that Ron and Hermione could see from where they remained standing behind the couch. "But he seemed convinced that everything was fine when he left..."

"Ron, we have to watch for signs..." Hermione said, loosening her grip on his hand slightly as she bit her lip, thinking.

"Signs?" he asked, fearing he already knew what she meant...

"Signs that things are changing, not going how they went the first time," Hermione explained, her own face paling as she paused, biting her lip nervously again.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now, is there," Harry said, standing again to face Ron and Hermione.

"No, I don't think there is..." Hermione trailed off.

"Better find something to eat," Harry said, grabbing his cloak, ready for the routine they all remembered so well...

"Need help?" Ron asked, feeling a bit guilty as he silently begged that Harry wouldn't need him, would leave him alone with Hermione...

"No, stay here," Harry said, opening the tent flap. "I shouldn't be too long."

Ron nodded, and Harry slipped outside.

Ron and Hermione remained still for a long moment, hands clasped between them, both looking forward, not at each other...

Ron finally broke the silence.

"I just panicked, Hermione," he said, looking down at her sadly. "I couldn't let him hurt you."

"I know," Hermione said soothingly, looking back up at him with a soft smile. "It'll be okay," and although she didn't look or sound entirely convinced, Ron nodded and dropped the subject, focused on the beautiful girl in front of him, the fact that she was alive... and that she really loved him, as he loved her.

"I love you," he said hoarsely, voicing his thoughts.

"I love you too," she said, voice cracking, and Ron smiled as she stepped closer, finally resting her cheek against his chest and dropping his hand to wrap her arms around him.

He held her tightly, chin on top of her head, lips against her thick curls.

"What do we do until Harry gets back?" he mumbled into her hair.

"I have a few ideas," she said, blushing as she pulled back to look up at him.

He needed no explanation when he looked into her dark eyes. He dipped his head and took her bottom lip between both of his. She melted against him, arms around his neck, eyes shut tight.

He felt her tongue graze his top lip, and he shifted his position, opening his mouth as she pushed her tongue inside. He groaned deep in the back of his throat, a vibration against their tongues. Fighting his way into her mouth, he wound one hand into her hair, holding her head in position as he pressed his lips tighter around hers, closing all gaps as she moaned.

Breathing shakily through her nose, Hermione pulled away, grinning shyly but passionately up at him as she sucked in air, her cheeks pink.

"What were your other ideas?" Ron whispered breathlessly, mesmerized by her parted, swollen lips.

"I lied," she whispered back. "This was my only one..."

Ron paused to consider, for the millionth time, how incredible and unbelievable it was that he was standing here... touching her, kissing her...

He let out a small cry against his will and squinted, cupping her face in his big hands as he looked into her bright eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, shaking his head slightly. "I just still can't... you're..."

She brushed a soft palm down his cheek, studying him so intimately.

"I know," she whispered.

But before she could say another word, take another breath, Ron grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the floor, against his chest. She squeaked, surprised, before laughing, arms wrapping around him, chin resting on his shoulder as he buried his face in her hair, supporting her weight against him.

He had a flash, like a vision going much too far out of focus, of a memory, one he had just relived... holding Hermione's lifeless body off the floor in the attic of a cold, dark building, the sounds of his own horrifying sobs filling the air around them.

He squeezed her tighter, felt her hot breath against his neck, and he blinked rapidly, yet another reminder that things were alright... wondering how long it would take before he would believe with all his heart, accept that it was over, and be able to move on.

When he finally set her down again, she took his hand, and without looking him in the eye, pulled him to the couch, dragging him down next to her. She removed her cloak and dress robe, sitting before Ron now in her button down shirt and skirt. Ron twisted his body inward towards Hermione, and he allowed his fingers to drift up her arm. She shivered under his touch and met his eyes.

They leaned together at the same moment, lips meeting in the middle. Their thighs bumped together, and Hermione shifted as close to Ron as she could get from their awkward position on the couch next to each other. He felt her trying to press her torso against his, and he stretched his palm flat against her back, pulling her in the right direction as his tongue met hers again. Her hands drifted down his arms, moving between their bodies to tug on his shirt, and, sensing what she wanted from him but still feeling unsure, he disconnected their lips to look straight into her wide eyes. She tugged his shirt again, and he felt the corner of his lips turning up on the right side into a smirk as she made her intentions obvious.

He pushed her back as she pulled him closer, and slowly, they sank onto the couch, Hermione flat on her back and Ron hovering over her, right elbow pressed into the cushions next to her head. He dropped a few inches lower, and their noses touched. Hermione giggled nervously, biting her lip as she grinned. Her eyes blurred from this distance as he stared into them. One more inch and he'd be kissing her again.

He tilted his head just enough to close the distance, and as their lips met again, she sighed happily. He moved his left arm over her too, elbows on either side of her now, body completely on top of hers, left leg between both of hers.

They had never really done anything like this before. They had been too busy before... and their brief moments together had been interrupted or shared knowing they would be free, not just then, but soon.

And as Ron felt her move underneath him, bending her knee and squeezing his leg between hers, he was overwhelmed with what he had almost lost... the chance to have this with her.

She pressed up into him further, and his arms shook, aware that she might soon discover, at this proximity, the effect she was having over him. Her hands were on his back, his shoulders, in his hair... He shifted his weight over her so he could run his fingers along her jaw as he sucked on her top lip. He slid his lips left, kissing the corner of her mouth, and she tilted her head back, moaning, eyes still closed as he slowly kissed his way to a sensitive spot just beneath her jaw where her neck curved in. He sucked gently, and she gasped, squeezing his hair tightly in her fists.

He grinned through his next kiss, moving further down her neck. She clenched her legs more tightly around his thigh as he moved down even further, reaching her collarbone. The swell of her chest was in his sights, and he paused, considering how far this could go. He knew by now that she must be able to feel how excited he was, and he shivered as he remained poised above her, lips an inch from her delicate skin.

"You don't have to stop," Hermione breathed, hands releasing his hair to quiver across his shoulders.

He tilted his head up to look into her eyes, exploring her flushed cheeks and parted, wet lips. And the thought of Harry returning and interrupting them occurred to him. Truthfully, he would rather be discovered in this awkward position than stop, but he also contemplated how he could keep Harry away to prevent this even _having _to stop until they'd gone as far as Hermione wanted to go, because he had no limit himself, would do anything she wanted to do.

He could charm the tent so Harry wouldn't be able to find it or would find it but not be able to enter until Ron had removed the spell... He grinned at Hermione as he imagined Harry wandering around in the woods, scratching his head, trying to figure out why he couldn't find his way back.

But Ron knew what Harry had given up to be here, that he wouldn't be able to see Ginny for the next eight months. He didn't want Harry to have to find another place to stay, to feel uncomfortable, or to be left to brood about missing Ginny.

"Harry could show up," Ron said before he could think about it for too long. It would be too easy to forget about Harry altogether and continue what he'd started with Hermione.

She nodded very slowly, reluctantly. But neither of them moved.

"I was just thinking," Ron said gently, body becoming a little uncomfortable, shifting on top of Hermione. "I've got you..."

Hermione smiled softly at him and he smiled back.

"But Harry's here alone really," Ron continued. "Don't get me wrong, it's not going to stop me if you still want to, uh..." He nodded his head slightly in her direction and she chuckled, getting the point.

"It's really good of you to think about Harry's feelings," Hermione said softly, "and we really can't just tell him to find another tent."

Ron grinned, marveling at her ability to understand what he was thinking. But he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed at her agreement. He finally had her back! He wanted everything, all the things they'd been promised in their survival... the chance at a future. He'd been waiting far too long for this... But then, she continued, and he watched her lips move to form each word.

"So... we'll just have to... get him used to it, so he won't feel uncomfortable."

"Get him used to what?" Ron asked, shifted his gaze back up to her eyes.

"Us," she said simply, blushing.

Ron half smiled at her, but he remained confused about her intentions. But before he could ask, she explained.

"We'll just have to... be okay with snogging in front of him..."

Ron's eyebrows lifted. But the deep red of her cheeks proved to him that she meant what she'd said.

"You mean you're okay with Harry finding us like this?" he asked, trying to clarify. If she said yes, there would be no holding him back...

"I don't _want _him to... always be here with us..." she said, wrinkling up her nose, "but it's better than telling him to stay out. And if we're really here for eight months, there's no way I'm letting Harry get in the way of my favourite thing to do..."

"What thing is that?" Ron asked, but he was grinning, guessing her answer easily as her eyes darted away from his stare.

"Anything with you..." she said, but by the way she drew out the word 'anything', Ron sensed that she meant this in more ways than one. She wiggled very slightly underneath him, obviously very aware of his weight above her, blocking her from removing herself from his scrutiny.

"So... we don't stop?" he asked, his leg twitching between hers.

And when she finally looked at him again, she seemed to be taking note of the way he was staring at her, eyes fixed on her, grin securely in place. And he watched his own flirtation embolden her. She nudged his right leg with her left, and he raised his leg slightly, not sure what she wanted. But when she moved her leg out from between his, he felt only the couch cushions beneath his legs and realized that she was bending her knees, legs spread on either side of his. He found himself suddenly very comfortable... and very aware of exactly _where _certain parts of his body had landed.

"No, please don't," she whispered, and it took him a second to even understand what she meant, to even remember the question he'd just asked, the one she was answering.

He pushed slowly forward, bringing her nose back to meet his again, but before he could make his way to her lips, she had lifted her head, turned it, and pressed her lips to his in a heartbeat. They sank in unison further into the couch, Hermione's knees squeezing his hips, tightly gluing herself to him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her hands slid under his arms to squeeze his back, nails digging into him through his shirt for a moment. His tongue battled hers inside her mouth, and he felt each noise she made vibrate through their contact. Her heart beat strongly against his chest, and he wound his fingers into her hair, his weight pushing her even further into the soft cushions.

A loud pop sounded outside the tent, and Ron separated his lips from hers only long enough to seek confirmation that she was really okay being caught like this. But before she could pull him in for another kiss, the tent flap whooshed open.

"Hi, Harry," Ron called from his position still on top of Hermione, out of view of Harry.

"Where..." Harry began, but as Ron looked up to his left, he caught Harry's startled reaction, finding Ron lying on top of Hermione, Hermione biting her lip yet again, avoiding Harry's eyes.

Ron rolled off Hermione to the very edge of the couch, keeping himself on it by grabbing a fistful of the back cushions, arm over Hermione's body.

"Have some decency," Harry joked, rolling his eyes. "At least give me a warning call when you hear me Apparate outside. Or were you too preoccupied to hear?"

"We heard," Ron said, ears red but otherwise looking fairly in control.

Harry huffed and headed into the kitchen, out of sight again.

"Maybe that was a bad idea?" Hermione whispered, widening her eyes at Ron as she made a guilty face.

But Ron just shrugged.

"At least he didn't walk in on us sha-" but Ron stopped dead, sucking in a breath at his close call. He looked away from Hermione, eyes wide as he realized he'd already made the mistake in a way. There was no chance she didn't know what he'd almost said.

But then she giggled, pink in the face.

"You know I wasn't expecting... I mean, I didn't think we were going to..." he stammered, trying frantically to back track, despite the fact that she was smiling at him, far from pissed off.

"Oh, you didn't?" she asked, mock disappointment in her tone as she pouted purposefully at him.

He met her eyes, his own wide with shock. She couldn't mean... She wouldn't have...

"But I thought we might..." she added, still pulling a sad face, so nervous, but somehow able to pull off the joke and make him believe it... exactly what he knew she wanted.

"You did? !" he whispered, clutching the back cushions tighter. She nodded very timidly, and Ron swore under his breath... "damn Harry..."

Harry returned to the sitting room carrying something in a pot which he took over to the fireplace. He quickly lit the fire with his wand as Ron sat up, straightening out his shirt, wishing very much that he could make Harry disappear.

Hermione turned onto her side and curled her body around Ron's back. He smiled at her and leaned back against her stomach.

"So what's for lunch?" Ron asked, patting his empty stomach.

"Stew," Harry said simply as he levitated the pot over the fire.

And for the next three hours they simply enjoyed each other like they hadn't done since before the war had ended. It was peaceful, calming, and exciting at the same time. Ron spent most of his time, after eating, with his head in Hermione's lap as she sat up against the back couch cushions. She absentmindedly stroked his hair, smoothed it and ruffled it again, her nails gently raking over his scalp. He felt his eyes shutting after a while, and before he knew it, he was sleeping in her lap.

When he woke up again, Harry was discussing the following day's plans with Hermione... the funeral.

"We've got a spell to be sure you have enough oxygen, but it's going to be a while down there," Harry said apologetically.

Hermione's legs felt tense under Ron's head now, and he sat up lazily, his hair pressed to the side of his face where it had been stuck between his cheek and Hermione's lap.

Hermione watched him as he rubbed his face with his hands, returning to consciousness.

"Have a nice nap?" she asked him, leaning against him and draping her arm over his torso before he had a chance to respond. He chuckled as he cuddled up to her, resting his head on top of hers, arm over her shoulders.

"Yeah, not bad," he said in a scratchy voice. "Carry on, Harry," he added, nodding in Harry's direction.

"We went over most of it, and I'm thinking we stun her again."

"Yeah, definitely," Ron said enthusiastically, feeling sick to his stomach imagining how it would be if Hermione had to be buried alive consciously.

Hermione nodded against Ron's side, and he felt how scared she was. He didn't even have to see her face.

"I promise you'll be okay," he said tenderly, stroking her hair, running his fingers through it.

"I know," she breathed, nuzzling up to him. "I trust you. It's just the idea of it..."

"Yeah," Ron said, understanding.

He was terrified of even _watching _the coffin being lowered into the ground, of seeing his own broken self at her funeral. He couldn't imagine how it would be for her to have to be _inside _that coffin.

"Have you told her how... how long she's got to..." Ron began, unable to really complete his thought aloud, actually hoping that Harry had already done the hard part, explaining everything in detail to her so she'd be left with no surprises.

"Yes, she knows," Harry said as Hermione nodded again, head bumping against Ron's arm.

"Let's talk about something else, yeah?" Ron said, shifting uncomfortably.

He was really starting to feel ill. This was the worst part of the plan, the part that caused him the most anxiety. He wouldn't be able to see her, to know that she was alright in there... he'd have to rely on his ability to perform the spells he needed to perform correctly, and he wasn't confident enough to take her life in his hands like that. Though, when he stopped to think about it, wasn't that exactly what he had done when he'd brought her back from the dead?

But Harry began a conversation reminiscing about school professors, late night studying, sneaking out of the dorms and seeking adventure. It had been so easy in their early years, though they hadn't known it then. And it was somehow a relief to be able to talk about those days, to remember all the Halloween feasts they'd shared, the Christmas holidays, lazy days by the lake as summer approached, Quidditch games to fill a Saturday...

And before they knew it, it was time for dinner. Ron's stomach grumbled, and Hermione laughed, feeling it from her position now with her head in _Ron's _lap, lying on her back and looking up at him. He shrugged but laughed back in return, and Harry got up to fetch another pot of stew from the kitchen.

"All we've got for now, I'm afraid," Harry said as he returned and levitated the next pot, increasing the intensity of the flames in the fireplace.

"S'alright," Ron said, leaning his head back against the couch as Hermione took his hand, lacing their fingers together and resting their joined hands on her stomach. "It was really delicious the first time, loads better than the rubbish we were eating while hunting the Horcruxes."

"I take offense at that," Hermione said, squeezing Ron's hand a little too tight.

"Ow!" he said, sitting up straighter and glaring down at her face. But viewing her exact position more closely, her head pressed against his lap, face bright and playful as she loosened her grip on his hand, he shivered, and she arched an eyebrow as she felt it. "You... your cooking was just fine, Hermione," Ron said, his brain going fuzzy.

Harry snorted.

"Hey!" Hermione admonished, glaring at Harry's back where he was still fussing over the fire. She sat up much too quickly, Ron's lap suddenly very cold and empty. "As if your cooking was much better!"

"She's got a point," Ron said, making a disgusted face as Harry looked over his shoulder at the pair of them.

"If I'd had something to work with-" Harry began, but Hermione huffed and interrupted him.

"Easy to say now, isn't it," she said.

"Yeah, considering I managed to come up with a stew that Ron called 'delicious' a moment ago..." Harry said, standing now and grinning, raising his eyebrows at Hermione.

"Fine!" Hermione shouted, and Ron flinched, unsure if he was about to be a little too close to the bomb as it went off. She was perched on the very front edge of the couch, his hand still in hers. "But I still win."

"How so?" Harry asked, slouching back into an arm chair.

Hermione raised the hand that was joined with Ron's. Harry simply blinked at her. She waved their joined hands around in the air for emphasis and Ron laughed.

"I don't see how you can call ending up with me 'winning', but thanks," he said, dropping her hand and opting to wrap both arms around her from behind, leaning up off the couch and over to the left to hold her more securely, his chin on her shoulder.

Harry finally caught on and laughed, shaking his head.

"You have a giant tosser for a boyfriend. Nice work," Harry said sarcastically.

"It _was _a lot of work!" she exclaimed, melting back against Ron's chest.

Ron turned his head slightly to the left, his nose buried in her hair as he closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to think too much about what she meant. He had been a little too daft back then, a little too insecure, and much too big of a prat...

"Could have been really easy," Ron said hoarsely into her ear before clearing his throat.

"How?" she asked, turning very slightly into him so his lips were nearly touching her cheek. He surprised her with a gentle kiss just in front of her ear.

"We could have just learned Occlumency with Harry in fifth year," Ron said.

Hermione smiled sadly before leaning left slowly, pulling Ron down with her. They toppled onto their sides, Ron's arms still around Hermione as she shifted back further, fully against him. He wiggled his left arm free from underneath her and slid it under the side couch cushion, propping them up a little, settling his body comfortably behind hers, pulling her tight against him, arm firm over her stomach.

"It's okay. It all worked out in the end," she sighed, hair tickling his face as she moved her head against the cushion.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, breathing in the beautiful scent of her hair, wrinkling his nose.

He removed his arm from around her for long enough to smooth down her hair.

"Sorry," she giggled as he repositioned himself so her hair wasn't running the risk of being sucked up into his nose with each breath.

"Mm, no," he sighed as he replaced his arm over her stomach. "Don't say that. Love your hair."

Harry rolled his eyes from where he still sat, able to hear and see everything Ron and Hermione were saying and doing.

"Wanna be a little more discreet?" Harry asked. "You're making me sick."

"Fine," Ron said, sitting up abruptly and causing Hermione to jostle slightly against the cushions, furrowing her eyebrows at him.

He climbed over her, making no effort to move gracefully, and she responded with a surprised 'hmpf!' as he finally managed to stand, stretching out a hand to her.

"We'll just go to bed," Ron continued. "We should anyway. We've got to be up early again."

Hermione took his hand and sat up.

"I've got to take a shower first," she said, running her other hand through her hair.

"Oh, good idea," Ron said, realizing he had yet to take one since arriving back in June.

"Who goes first?" Hermione asked as she stood, dropping Ron's hand.

"Go ahead," Ron said, smiling down at her.

And for a moment, as she hesitated to leave his side, he wondered if she could possibly... if maybe she wanted him to... But no. It was ridiculous. He'd never even seen her in her bra and knickers before, much less completely naked! Even thinking the word 'naked' sent a wave of pleasure through his body, from toes and hands to somewhere central and a bit embarrassing given where he was and the company he was in...

But then she dropped his hand and nodded.

"Oh, what about clothes?" she asked, looking from Ron to Harry.

"We packed some things for you," Ron said, crossing the room to get his bag. He tossed it to her, not wanting to fondle her clothes too much, especially not her knickers, and not with her standing there watching him...

"Thanks," she said with a smile, and she turned and left the room, heading for the loo.

Ron sat back down on the couch and found Harry looking at him quizzically.

"What?" Ron asked.

"I'm just amazed," Harry said, awed as he shook his head. "It's you again."

"Me again?" Ron repeated.

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "You're back."

"What are you on about?" Ron asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I have my best mate back, now that we're a team again, the three of us," Harry clarified, "now that Hermione's back. You're you again."

Ron nodded finally, understanding.

"I guess..." Ron began, feeling a bit foolish for what he was about to admit, but wanting to say it out loud anyway. "I guess she was just... always part of who I was... and without her..."

"...without her, you were only a part of yourself," Harry finished, and Ron nodded, glad Harry had understood him so well.

"Harry," Ron began after a long silent pause. Harry nodded for Ron to go on. "Thank you, for coming with me, for helping me, for giving up all you did to be here with us."

"It was nothing," Harry said seriously. "After all the two of you gave up for me..."

Harry couldn't finish his sentence, but Ron didn't need anymore. He knew. Harry smiled and Ron smiled back, and there was nothing else that needed to be said.

"Ginny's going to go round the twist when we tell her what we did," Ron said, cringing at the mere thought of it.

"Oh yeah," Harry agreed, chuckling. "Not looking forward to that conversation."

"Do you think my parents should know?" Ron asked, contemplating hard. It was a decision they didn't have to make for a while yet, but he felt like the more things they had worked out before time passed, the easier it would be to just relax and enjoy their 'holiday' for the next eight months.

"I dunno," Harry said, really thinking it over as he stared back at Ron, eyebrows furrowed.

"I think maybe it's best as a secret between the three of us," Ron said slowly. "Four of us," he corrected, remembering Ginny.

He knew that it wouldn't be right to ask Harry to keep something this big from her. After all, no matter what, if someone ever asked _him _to keep something from Hermione, he'd never be able to do it.

Harry and Ron fell into comfortable silence again as they waited for Hermione to finish in the shower. And finally, she emerged in her pyjamas, toweling off her wet hair. Ron looked over the back of the couch and smiled at her as she met his eyes.

"Your turn," she said to him, and he stood. She handed him his bag and he retrieved his toothbrush and pyjamas, kissing the top of Hermione's wet head before walking off to the loo.

He showered quickly, but thoroughly, wanting to be as fresh as possible for another night in bed with Hermione, but he was anxious to get back to her at the same time. He sighed happily as he imagined sleeping with her again. It had been incredible, the most amazing thing, to fall asleep with her in his arms. He wanted every night to begin that way, and every morning to begin the same... well, maybe without the nightmares.

He shivered as he turned the water off and toweled himself dry. He brushed his teeth for a lot longer than usual, mouth extra minty as he dressed and left the loo, stretching his arms over his head as he re-entered the sitting room. He found Hermione curled up on the couch, knees tucked up to her chest. He smiled unavoidably at how perfectly adorable she was in her light pink tank top and pyjama bottoms, her hair still a bit wet and fluffy, little dimples on each cheek as she smiled up at him.

He raised his eyebrows at her, asking her a question without words, tilting his head in the direction of his bunk. Her smile widened as she stood, adjusting the bottom of her tank top to completely cover her stomach. Ron couldn't even bring himself to feel disappointment at his lack of a glimpse of naked flesh. She was walking lazily towards his bed, her pyjamas extra low on her hips...

"So, goodnight?" Harry asked from his arm chair, standing and stretching as he watched Ron following Hermione into shadow.

"Yeah," Ron said, smirking over his shoulder in Harry's direction. "G'night."

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes as Ron turned back to Hermione, following her closely to the bunk. He watched her climb in, heard Harry leave the room, presumably for a shower, and waited for Hermione to get comfortable on her side before he climbed in after her, tucking his legs under the sheet and blanket.

They scooted together at the same moment, legs tangling again beneath the covers.

Before Ron could consider his next move, Hermione had leaned into him and was kissing him, leg moving further and further over his as she pushed her body against his, slightly over his. He allowed her to move all the way on top of him, torsos overlapping as she kissing him fiercely, lips and teeth clashing as he tried to stop his hands from trembling, palms against her back. She was making little sounds into his mouth, her tongue and his dancing brilliantly between their mouths, feeling her teeth with the tip of his tongue, his lips moving from her top lip to her bottom lip as he tried out different positions.

He wound his left hand into her hair, right hand content with the small of her back. When he stretched his fingers, he was able to feel the swell of her bum just barely, and his body reacted immediately, tensing and then relaxing as she scooted up a bit, gaining him even better access. His fingers were very nearly hovering over her bum completely now, and he wondered, lips still glued to hers, if she had done this on purpose, moved because she _wanted _him to touch her...

She separated from him to breathe, eyes watery. He could feel her hot breath on his own lips and he moved the hand on her back for half a second to brush hair out of his eyes so he could see her properly. But then she was scooting up against his chest, pressing him straight down into his mattress as she very nearly climbed completely on top of him, one leg between both of his, as they had done earlier on the couch, though in the reverse. And when he replaced his hand on her back, he was shocked to find that her shirt had ridden up a great deal, half of her naked back now exposed to him.

His hand shook furiously now against her hot, smooth flesh, and his fingers stretched to reach as much bare skin as possible. Overwhelmed by the kisses they were sharing, tongues reunited again, he moved his hand unconsciously upwards, only realizing how far he had gone when he felt the cotton of her tank top over his hand. He could feel her shoulder blades, the space between them, and...

...she wasn't wearing a bra.

It hit him suddenly. He couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding in his chest. Only a thin piece of cotton separated him from her entire bare torso. Either she was trying to torture him, or she was as turned on as he was. She moaned throatily into his mouth as his hand spread over her upper back, fingers very close to her side, half of his forearm now stretched across her naked back, exposing a lot of her skin to the air...

...and to Harry.

Ron unattached his lips from hers long enough to turn to his left, searching for any sign of Harry. But he had yet to return from the loo. But Ron wasn't willing to risk giving Harry a view of anything... or anything more than he had probably seen at the morgue. And it was then that Ron felt his first real stab of guilt for the glimpse he'd gotten of her naked body on that table...

As she leaned in to kiss Ron again, he stopped her, nudging her back from him with his nose.

"Wait," he whispered, throat dry. "I need to tell you something."

His hand flattened completely against her bare upper back, and he had such a strong desire to allow his fingers to wander further over to her side... but he had to get this out first, as difficult as it was for him to stop long enough to do it.

"When we were at the morgue," he began, feeling suddenly very nervous, "when... when the wizard, the one who was working on you, took off... your clothes... to change you into those dress robes... he uh... we... well..." Ron finally stammered to a halt.

"What?" Hermione breathed, impatient for his next words.

"I wasn't trying to... see anything... me and Harry, we turned our backs to you when we figured out he was undressing you... but when I heard him messing around with tools, I had to see what he was doing, and I turned around..."

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction and Ron could actually _feel _her heartbeat speed up against his chest.

"I swear I didn't really even see anything. I just had to be sure you were okay... and I... I sort of... saw you out of focus..."

"O-out of focus?" she asked, voice dropped now to below a whisper.

"Yeah, I uh... I unfocused my eyes so I wouldn't be able to make out any... details..."

For a second, she seemed quite embarrassed, averting her eyes from his as she simply breathed unsteadily. But then, after a moment, she smiled very shyly at him.

"That's so... sweet..." she said, blushing.

"Sweet?" Ron asked, confused.

"You tried not to see anything..." she explained, shrugging a bit against him.

"Oh. Yeah," Ron said, feeling a bit silly all of a sudden.

"I love you," Hermione whispered, shocking him. He grinned, his face nearly splitting from the sudden change in expression.

"God, I love you too," he said as he pulled her down for another kiss.

But before long, he pulled away from her again.

"Harry may have gotten a glimpse too, though I might have screamed at him about it..." Ron admitted, grinning lopsidedly at her. She simply laughed and tried to kiss him again, but he turned away from her lips. "Hold on. Harry may have seen a bit of skin before, but that wasn't avoidable at the time. This time's different." Ron reached down and pulled the blanket up more securely over Hermione's back, completely covering her bare skin. "There," he said, snaking his arm back under, resuming his position against her naked upper back. "He doesn't get any more."

Hermione laughed again, and Ron caught her lips mid-laugh, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth as if he'd been doing it for years. She let out a heavy breath as she melted against him, the idea of laughing about anything clearly far from her mind as he had distracted her completely with his lips.

After much too short a time, Hermione lifted her head from Ron's again.

"This isn't fair," she said.

"What-"

"You need to make us even," and she tugged at the collar of Ron's shirt.

He somehow managed to catch on to the fact that she was referring to his hand all the way inside her shirt while he was still fully clothed, no skin revealed to her.

"What do you want?" he asked her, voice low and hoarse.

"Off," she whispered, cheeks still so pink from before that it was hard to tell if she was blushing yet again at her own boldness.

"But then we'd be uneven still," Ron rationalized. "I can't take it _all _the way off..."

But as Hermione stared into his eyes, hearts beating furiously together, Harry's footsteps seemed to drown out all of their electrically charged thoughts, the paths to places they might have gone a bit less easy to see as Harry settled into the couch, much too close.

"Bleeding prat, Harry Potter," Ron mumbled, eyes narrowed.

Hermione just grinned, and, resting her weight completely on top of Ron, nuzzled her nose against his neck, cheek pressed to his collarbone. He shifted under her so they were stacked directly on top of each other, and he freed his left hand from her hair to wrap his left arm around her bare back, joining his right arm in its pleasure.

"I guess maybe it's not as easy as we thought to just... forget Harry's there," Hermione stated, and Ron hated that he agreed with her.

Again, he felt guilty for wishing Harry away, but it would just be so much easier if they were alone.

"We should make bed curtains," Hermione sighed, already sounding half-asleep. "Tomorrow," she added.

"Mmm," Ron sighed, thinking about Hermione's suggestion. They could simply hang an extra blanket from the top bunk. It was a genius plan, really. Then all they had to do was cast a silencing charm and...

Ron smiled as he closed his eyes, squeezing Hermione's small body on top of his own.

"Comfortable?" Ron asked, seeing no way for her to be. He wasn't an especially soft bed for her to lie on.

"Mmmm," was her only reply. So he simply allowed his breathing to slow, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:** The challenge that this story was written for - the **R/Hr Big Bang** - was a collaborative effort... a writer, a beta, an artist and a cheerleader :) Because this website doesn't allow the posting of images within a story, I'm including the links to the wonderful pieces of art that were drawn for my story in the challenge:_

_The first piece goes with **Chapter 3** - _**http: / / i1211 . photobucket . com /albums/cc430/rhrbigbang/aubrey123 . jpg**_** (remove the spaces)**  
_

_And I will put a link to the second piece at the end of this chapter._

_Thanks so much to the wonderful artist **redheadsarehot **for drawing these amazing pieces for my story._

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**June 9, 1998**

Ron woke suddenly, not remembering a dream specifically, but panicking for some reason that he could not attribute to anything but his subconscious mind working overtime. But as soon as he became fully conscious, enough to feel the weight of someone on top of him, things all clicked into place. Hermione had stayed, for the most part, in her position using his body as a mattress, but she had slipped to his right a bit, half of her side tilted against the mattress, her hair completely covering his chest. Her hand had made its way up under the bottom edge of his shirt, and her fingers were curved lightly, tips touching his bare side.

Both of Ron's arms were still, somehow, underneath Hermione's shirt, and he soon realized just how far her shirt had ridden up. If he glanced down, he could see her bare ribs, side... leading all the way up to... coming so close to...

He shut his eyes tight. He hadn't seen anything really, but he already felt his body tingling from the mere _idea _of seeing something. Hermione must have sensed that he had woken up, because almost immediately, she began to move around on top of him until she lifted her head sleepily, staring up at him through half-closed eyes. She smiled lazily and rested her chin very lightly on his chest.

"Sleep well?" she asked him, fingers tickling his bare skin as she moved them lightly up and down his side.

"Mm hm," Ron half moaned, eliciting a giggle from Hermione.

He squeezed her tight before releasing her, needing to force himself out of bed before he became overwhelmed by her again, sucked back into the bliss of her. They had a lot of work to do.

"We should get up," he stated as he pushed up against her. She sadly rolled off of him. "As soon as this day is over," he continued, sitting up on the edge of the bed, "we'll have eight bloody months to do nothing by lie around in bed." He looked back over his shoulder at her and threw her a grin. She smiled shyly back and nodded.

"Lovely," she sighed as she sat up as well, scooting to the edge of the bed next to Ron. He stood, stretched, and headed for his bag in the middle of the sitting room.

"Oi, Harry!" Ron said roughly as he kicked the bottom edge of the couch.

Harry grumbled incoherently before blinking awake and reaching around the side table for his glasses. When he found them, he slipped them on lopsidedly and stared up at Ron.

"Time's it?" Harry slurred.

"Time to get your arse out of bed and start making us breakfast," Ron said as he pulled a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt out of his bag.

Hermione laughed as she made her way over to Ron, taking the bag from him and rummaging for her button down shirt and skirt from the day before. She reached for her dress robe and cloak and headed for the loo, hair in a huge frizz around her face. Ron watched her go, smiling, completely unaware of Harry's presence in the room for a moment... before he was snapped back to reality by Harry's foot against his shin.

"Hey!" Ron shouted, hopping on his other leg.

"Make your own breakfast, lazy git," Harry smirked as he stood and stretched.

With mock indignation, Ron shook his head and made his way to the kitchen to see what Harry had found them to eat. He was happily surprised to find eggs and toast waiting for him, the eggs having been preserved inside a chilled box that he presumed Harry had rigged, recognizing something like it from their experience before in the tent. On the rare occasion that they were able to find good, real food to eat, they had used a variety of spells to keep things fresh.

By the time Hermione emerged from the loo, Ron had fried up three eggs over the fire and was toasting several slices of bread.

"Wow, you made quick work of breakfast," Hermione said, sounding legitimately impressed. "Smells delicious."

"Here," Ron said, standing and handing Hermione the first plate.

"So you didn't force Harry to work for you after all," Hermione grinned, tucking into her food as she sat down on the couch.

"Nah," Ron said as Harry stalked off slowly to the loo. "I figured I should try and impress you myself with my vast culinary skills."

"This is great," Hermione admitted, "but honestly, making eggs is the first thing you learn... it's cooking 101."

"Oh gee, thanks," Ron said as he tucked into his own plate, sitting on the couch next to Hermione.

A silent moment passed between them as they ate, and finally, Ron turned to look at Hermione, instantly seeing her anxiety in her eyes.

"Don't worry," he said, covering her hand with his and squeezing. When he removed his hand again a second later, her hand followed his and held on again, squeezing even tighter. "It's okay," Ron said, abandoning his half eaten food by placing his plate on the couch to his right and turning in towards Hermione. "You said you trust me, yeah?"

She nodded erratically, unable to speak as she looked back into Ron's eyes.

"Then believe me when I say it'll be okay."

She stared at him for a long moment, their eyes locked. He tried his best to show her how much he loved her, how he'd never let her down, in the way he looked back at her.

"I know," she finally said, attempting a small smile.

Harry emerged from the loo an instant later, and Ron gave Hermione's hand one last squeeze before standing and retrieving Harry's plate.

"Here," he said, handing the food to Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said as he ate, looking a bit paler than usual.

No more words passed between them as Ron put out the fire. They took turns in the loo again brushing their teeth, slipped on their shoes, and followed each other outside the tent, into the fresh air, and directly under the invisibility cloak.

"Ready?" Harry asked, gripping Ron and Hermione's hands.

"Ready," Ron said, lacing his fingers through Hermione's.

With a loud pop, they were gone...

...and with another loud pop, they were standing in the middle of the morgue, almost exactly where they had appeared the day before.

"Okay, quickly," Harry said, ducking out from under the cloak.

Ron felt an odd sense of routine in what they did this time, opening the drawer, Hermione hopping up onto the metal table and lying back... until her frightened eyes met his as he stood tall above her.

"Okay," Ron began, "by midnight, we'll all be together again in the tent celebrating. Everyone will think you're dead, but you'll be with us, and we'll have eight months on holiday until we've got to even begin _thinking _about going back to work and paying our bills..."

Hermione tried to smile, but it came across as exceptionally nervous and fake.

"We're going to stun you really good so there will be no chance of you waking up," Ron said, trying to reassure her, "so I'm sorry if you're a little sore afterwards..."

She shook her head, dismissing his unnecessary apology.

And then, he leaned all the way over her and crushed her lips with his own, dropping his wand on her table to hold her face in his hands. She weaved her fingers through his hair, eyes clamped tightly shut. And when he pulled back, he remained inches from her, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.

Finally, sensing the urgency of the situation, Ron picked up his wand again and aimed it at her chest.

"I love you," he said, trying to hold his voice steady, not to betray his sudden fear.

"I love you too," Hermione said, her eyes a bit wet as she allowed them to flutter shut.

"Stupefy!" Ron shouted, and Hermione's body went limp. "Stupefy!" Ron shouted again, and though there was no change in Hermione, he needed to insure that she would remain unconscious. For good measure he stunned her once more... "stupefy!" ...before pocketing his wand, his own eyes mysteriously wet.

When he finally looked up at Harry, he was surprised to find that Harry was staring wide eyed at Ron and Hermione both, shifting focus from one to the next.

"What?" Ron asked as he moved to the end of Hermione's drawer, preparing to close it.

"I just didn't... was that the first time that you..." Harry stammered.

Ron blinked at Harry, clueless.

"Do you realize you just said you loved her?" Harry asked, and Ron grinned.

"No!" Ron exclaimed, clapping a hand to his cheek, feigning terror. "How did I not realize? !"

"Shut up," Harry said, rolling his eyes and moving to the end of the table to help Ron roll it into the drawer. They shut the door with a slight thud, and Harry returned to their conversation. "I seem to recall it being a lot more difficult for you to admit to _anything_ when it came to Hermione, and I'd certainly never expect you to admit _love_..."

"You didn't think I loved her?" Ron asked, knowing the answer but wanting to give Harry as hard a time as he could about this. After all the knowing looks and teasing he'd received over the years from Harry and his brothers, he was reveling in his ability to give it back to them now.

"Yeah, _obviously _I knew you did..." Harry said, drawing out his words. Apparently he _wasn't _going to give up the teasing any time soon. "Everyone _except _Hermione knew you did," Harry continued, "until just now. It's not going to be as much fun now that Hermione knows."

"I told her before today," Ron said, ignoring Harry's raised eyebrows, "and anyway, I think it's going to be a lot _more _fun now that she knows." Harry pretended to gag as Ron smirked back.

"Spare me," Harry said, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside effectively interrupted their conversation, and they ducked under the invisibility cloak in a flash.

But the steps quickly became a thunder storm of sounds, various, out of time rhythms pounding against the wood floors.

"No, you can't!" someone shouted suddenly, and Ron had a sick feeling about this voice, a memory trigger as he waited for what he knew would come next... the sound of his own cries, distorted echoes bouncing off the walls.

His old self began screaming for Hermione, other incoherent words echoing now from the front room where Ron remembered being forced to return. Inside the morgue, Ron flinched with each new scream, remembering it all like it was yesterday. This was it, his own downfall, and he was here to witness it now from the other side. It was difficult not to shout back at himself, to calm himself down by reassuring himself that things would not always be this way, that one day he'd be with Hermione again, that she was indeed alive and well and he didn't need to fall apart.

But he could do nothing, helplessly listening to his own sobs, knowing that soon he'd be escorted out with the carriages on the way to the cemetery, to the final place where he'd been close to her, unable to touch her or reach her where she was, where she would soon be... buried beneath the ground, no longer part of his world.

Finally, the sobs ceased, silence overwhelming Ron as he realized his own face was now covered in fresh tears. But steady footsteps echoed in the hallway again, and this time, they reached the morgue and entered. It was Barney and another younger wizard who looked quite rattled.

"Can't we do something for him?" the young wizard asked, and Ron had a strange sense that they were discussing _him_. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

"No," Barney said sadly as he opened Hermione's drawer. "It's terrible, really. He lost her so young..."

"But he just wants to see her..." the young wizard said tentatively as he helped Barney levitate Hermione's body and pull her along through the air towards the door.

"I know," Barney sighed, closing the drawer. "But what good can come from viewing the dead? She's no longer inside this body. She's not here with us, or him, anymore."

And they opened the door, exiting one after the other, Hermione's body floating between them into the hallway... and out of sight.

Ron clutched Harry's forearm.

"To the carriages?" he whispered roughly.

"Yeah, let's go," Harry whispered back, checking the hem of the cloak once more to be sure they were both properly hidden before they made their way to the door.

They managed to hop on the back of the carriage containing Hermione's coffin. Ron was instantly relieved that he didn't have to ride with himself... as odd as it was to even consider the idea. He wanted to keep his distance now, not really trusting himself to do what he must. It also made the job of charming the coffin a lot simpler, much easier to do it within the confines of the carriage than to attempt to follow the coffin to the front of the ceremony and do it there.

Ron removed his wand from his pocket and aimed it at Hermione's coffin, glancing sideways at Harry for confirmation. They had been able to test this spell, to practice it nonverbally, and they were always successful. But Ron still felt terribly nervous about it. If he got it wrong... but he couldn't afford to get nervous, to consider what would happen if he failed this time. So before he could let himself go too far into his own fears, he performed the spell, moving his wand swiftly through the air. And for a brief moment, the coffin glowed pale yellow, a clear sign of success. She would be able to breathe for at least twenty-four hours.

Letting out a relieved breath, Ron pocketed his wand and shared a smile with Harry.

They bumped along the road for a quarter of an hour before the cemetery came into view just ahead. Ron knew her plot by heart, the way to her grave site ingrained deeply in his mind. He stared down at Hermione's coffin rather than observing their journey through the gates, up the hill... up, up, up... to the plot near the top, overlooking the sea if you squinted towards the horizon. It was beautiful really, but he never wanted to see it again.

He could imagine that he had the ability to see through the wood of her coffin, to see her stunned inside, beautiful pink cheeks and soft skin, stupid thick dress robes covering her natural beauty...

He smiled, trying to look forward to the celebration tonight, to the makeshift curtains they'd use to block Harry out, to be completely alone. It delighted him how much she wanted the same things he did, how she seemed to crave physical contact with him as much as he did with her. It was ironic considering his only other physical experience had been so annoying after such a short amount of time when he knew that if Hermione's lips somehow merged with his and they could never stop snogging, he'd be perfectly fine with it.

He suppressed his laughter at the mental image this idea pulled up, and before he could replace this ludicrous thought with another one, the carriage had come to a stop. Ron finally looked up, out the front window, and saw, all over again, what he had seen first on that day... the first time around.

A sea of black.

His family stood together, eyes cast down. Only his mother was looking up and around, searching for his old self. He watched himself stumble off a nearby carriage, hair an absolute wreck, face unshaven. Harry's arm was linked with his and they clung to each other for dear life as they slowly joined the crowd. Old Ron's face was so pale and worn, eyes puffed up so badly that the whites were hardly viewable.

He had to look away. This was not the memory he needed to replay. He had done what he had to, had relived the moment of her death in order to save her. But now, as he watched her coffin being levitated towards the empty plot before him, his mother and Harry trying to hold his old self up as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, refusing to believe it was real... he turned his back on the scene.

He had her now in his life and would never let her go again. Harry didn't turn away, watching everything again, but he didn't ask Ron if he was okay. There was no need. He was fine... he was fine because he would never have to remember this day again, would never have to replay it over and over in his dreams, waking up in the night screaming her name and not finding her anywhere... because she was alive, she was his... and he was hers.

Finally, Harry tugged on Ron's arm and they exited the carriage, everyone else distracted with the funeral. The service was shorter than Ron remembered, and he simply rested against a tree next to Harry, still underneath the cloak, as the service completed. Ron replayed the memory instead of the first time Hermione kissed him. It was an old habit, a way to distract him, because it had been the most perfect moment of his whole life. Everything he ever wanted was wrapped up in Hermione, and for once, everything had gone exactly right. He was suddenly presented with his dream, and it wasn't just a fleeting, passing desire flashed before his eyes. It was real. It was the rest of his life.

And he would never, ever lose it. Not again. Ever.

He had somehow conquered death, proving that the most impossible thing imaginable was possible.

But then... he shook his head slowly, comprehension dawning. Perhaps her death was never meant to be, never real to begin with. Here he was, listening as his former self came apart at the seams. But now he _knew _it wasn't real. It was some sort of strange nightmare that he had finally awoken from. And now he was ready for his real life, for the one that would count... the second chance, or perhaps the _only _one that had ever really existed for him.

And he knew that _someday_, death would come. It would conquer them in the end, though if they had lived, had really truly lived, maybe... maybe he'd even be ready for it.

And the idea of his own death wasn't such a scary thing. He'd been faced with the possibility of it, the very _real _possibility, for most of his life. It was the idea of losing _her_ that really scared him the most.

How could he ever accept that her life had a limit, a timeline with an ending? He couldn't, that was the answer. And maybe he never would. So, he could only hope that his own death would come first, to spare him from having to ever live out another day like this one, another moment to watch, helpless, as love vanished from his sights, buried beneath the ground... ash and dust and... _nothing_.

"Ron?" Harry said, nudging him in the ribs.

"Huh?" Ron blinked and looked to his right, shocked as he realized the sun was setting. "Shit, what time is it?" Ron asked, glancing around the empty cemetery. When had they all gone? Had he really been sitting here all day?

"It's nearly eight," Harry said, rolling his shoulders, stiff from sitting in the same position for so long.

Ron nodded his agreement, taking in the sight of Hermione's fresh grave. He recalled the way he'd left with Harry, sick and unable to stand on his own. Harry had slept in Ron's bed that first night, and Ron had clung to him like a small child to his mother. Harry had sobbed into Ron's hair, and together, they had survived that first night. The rest... well, Ron didn't want to think about those. They were his past now, distant and unimportant.

He counted down the seconds until the sun would fall completely below the horizon, the sky dark enough to shroud their 'crime', unearthing a body from its grave.

"Okay, I think it's good," Ron said, waiting for Harry's confirmation.

Harry nodded and they stood together, cautiously approaching the grave site. When they were sure no one was close by, Harry removed the cloak from over them and pocketed it, drawing out his wand as Ron did the same.

Together, they dug out Hermione's fresh grave, making much faster work of it than they had anticipated, skilled with the spell they were using from a lot of late night practicing before they'd set out from February.

"I reckon we're nearly halfway now," Ron noted, standing several feet above the deep indentation they had made.

But suddenly, Ron stopped dead.

"Shh, Harry!" he shouted frantically, and Harry froze midway through casting the spell again, his wand held high, holding his breath.

And sure enough, there was an unmistakable sound coming from beneath them.

"Fuck!" Ron screamed, and he dropped to his knees, digging with both hands. "Harry, come ON!"

Harry moved immediately at Ron's demand, swishing his wand through the air at top speed, carving out the dirt.

"Is it her? !" Harry asked breathlessly, still casting the spell over and over again as Ron dug relentlessly by hand, tossing armfuls of dirt up out of the rather large hole he was now kneeling in.

"Yes, Goddamn it! Hurry the fuck up!"

Harry cast the spell two more times before dropping into the hole next to Ron, panting and whimpering together as they shoveled dirt over the edge.

"Hermione!" Ron screamed, hoping she could hear him. "We're almost there! Almost..."

He kept up his frenzied pace, Harry moving just as quickly. And finally, Ron hit something solid.

"I'm here, Hermione!" he called when he heard her cry again from below him. "Just hang on!"

Harry moved to the opposite end of the hole and began tossing dirt into the air, some of it landing in his own hair in his haste. Ron plunged his hand into the dirt still covering part of the other end of the coffin, searching for a latch or a handle, though he couldn't find it.

He heard another muffled cry and felt another crack through his breaking heart.

"We're nearly there, love!" Ron shouted, voice cracking, and Harry paused for only half a second to acknowledge Ron's choice of words before he resumed his frantic dig.

Finally, Ron uncovered most of his side of the coffin and stood up, drawing out his wand and aiming it at the end of the coffin.

"Stop digging, Harry!" Ron ordered before waving his wand and adding a quick squish backwards.

Something clicked and Ron dropped down again as Harry expelled mass amounts of the remaining dirt with his own wand. Ron reached along the edge of the coffin until finally, he found what he was looking for.

"Harry, climb out of here, quick!"

Harry jumped out of the hole, and Ron pressed himself against the dirt wall, feet completely off the coffin so he could open it. He barely had room to stand without standing on top of the coffin, but he made it work and managed to bend down, unlatching the coffin, pulling up...

Hermione coughed and gasped, a look of terror on her tear stained face as she came into Ron's view.

"Hermione!" Ron cried, making sure the coffin lid was open all the way before dropping down inside, careful not to hurt her, kneeling at the foot of the coffin as Hermione bent her knees up, making room for him. He leaned down over her, parting her knees so he could get closer, and she pulled him on top of her, between her legs, crying silently into his neck.

He kissed her cheek, jaw, hair... and finally she managed to catch her breath.

"I... w-was s-so s-scared..." she whispered raggedly.

"What happened?" Ron asked, leaning up to stroke the side of her face with his fingers.

"It was s-so hot in here... I... I d-didn't think I could breathe... a-and..." She stopped and closed her eyes, allowing her legs to fall straight out again.

"You weren't supposed to wake up!" Ron exclaimed, furious for his own mistake. "Damn it! I'm so sorry..."

"Wait..." Hermione said, glimpsing something near Ron's shoulder.

"What?" he asked, looking where she was looking.

Her wand was tucked into the interior lining of the coffin, and Ron remembered how everyone had said she'd be buried with it.

"Why the fuck would they put it way up there? !" Ron yelled, furious as he reached up for it. "You couldn't have reached that from where you were!"

From the tight space Hermione had been enclosed in, she would never have been able to bend her arm enough to reach the wand where it was tucked near her shoulder.

"But why would they ever think I'd need to?" Hermione rationalized as Ron retrieved her wand for her, handed it to her, and sat up again, pulling her up to sit in front of him.

Ron said nothing as he watched her tuck her hair behind her ears, hands shaking. He laced his fingers into hers and kissed the back of her hand as she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. Above them, Harry looked from the coffin where they still sat to the cemetery grounds behind him.

"I think we'd better move now," Harry whispered loudly.

Ron looked up, Hermione's head still against his shoulder, and he nodded at Harry.

"Okay," he said to Hermione, taking her face in his hands, kissing her once quickly on the lips, "come on. It's over now."

Hermione allowed Ron to help her out of the hole, lifting her off the ground as Harry took her hands, pulling her up the dirt wall to stand in the grass by her own headstone. She stared at it, unable to look away, as Ron pushed up on his hands and pulled himself out of the grave.

Ron aimed his wand back into the grave and shut the coffin lid. He and Harry began refilling the grave, levitating the dirt and replacing it over the coffin. Ron stopped midway through to glance over at Hermione where she was hugging her body with both arms, shivering as she continued to stare blankly down at her own headstone.

"You okay?" he asked her, stepping up behind her.

"I never imagined... it's so..." She shrugged, unable to find the right words. "It's like I don't really exist..."

Ron slid his hands down her arms, following their path across her chest, holding her against him as he dropped his cheek on top of her head.

"You're alive," he whispered. "It's everybody else that's got it wrong."

She leaned fully against him, his arms and body supporting her where she stood. Behind him, Ron heard Harry still shuffling dirt into the grave, and Ron finally turned to look back and see how much there was left.

"Gotta help Harry," Ron said, "so we can get out of here."

He reluctantly let go of Hermione and walked back over to Harry, grinning slightly as he thought about the way things had turned out. Hermione needed him. Harry needed him. And he looked after them. He would never have imagined himself this way, as Harry, and even Hermione, being the ones to need _him_... But then, he supposed they all needed each other. And that was precisely why, without a third of themselves, they had been unable to continue. All roads had led them to dead ends.

Finally, the grave was filled, and it looked nearly identical to how Ron remembered it from so many nights lying here, face pressed to the dirt and grass, tears forming small puddles of mud against his cheeks.

"Looks pretty good," Harry said, and Ron nodded, glancing over at Hermione.

She finally turned to face them again, and though he hadn't heard her make a sound, her cheeks were coated in tears, wet streaks glistening in the moonlight. She walked towards Ron, arms still tightly wrapped around her own body. But when she reached him, she opened her arms and fell heavily against him, arms around _him _now, hands clenched in the back of his shirt.

He held her with one hand on her back and the other in her hair. Her head rested perfectly under his chin, and it seemed incredible how they fit together like two puzzle pieces.

Ron felt Harry moving behind him, Harry's arms stretching around Ron and Hermione both. And Ron squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for Disappartion...

They arrived in a jumbled cluster of bodies at the tent entrance, arms all around each other, confused and mingled. Hermione shook slightly, and Ron realized almost immediately that she was not crying. She was laughing. Her hair was in her face, Harry's arm awkwardly pressed against her nose, and Ron began to smile at the comedy of their current position.

Ron shrugged his shoulders, pushing Harry back a bit as he felt Harry laughing too. They finally managed to come apart and walk inside the tent, Ron still grinning as Harry and Hermione let out random bursts of laughter, Hermione's hand squeezing Ron's.

"We've got some champagne to celebrate," Harry said through another bout of laughter.

"Where'd you get that?" Ron asked.

"Same place I got all the food yesterday."

"Which is?" Ron questioned, realizing now that he actually had no idea how Harry had managed to come back with such amazing food.

"Easy," Harry said, shrugging as he walked past Ron and Hermione into the kitchen, out of view. "I just used a Disillusionment charm so no one would know it was me buying all this."

"Oh," Ron said, "yeah, paying for things is a lot simpler than trying to find the edible options in the middle of the woods."

Hermione smiled up at him as Harry returned with the champagne and three glasses. He handed them out and the three of them collapsed onto the couch, Ron's arms stretched out over the back behind Harry on his right and Hermione on his left. Hermione cuddled up against Ron's side, arm over his ribs, as Harry opened the bottle and poured three glasses, handing them out. Hermione reluctantly released Ron to take her glass, and she sat up on her knees, facing Ron.

"To what is probably the most insane, most spectacular, and most rewarding plan we've ever had," Harry said, raising his glass.

"Cheers," Ron said, dropping his arm to Hermione's shoulder and pulling her in closer. She had to balance her glass carefully to keep from spilling her drink. Ron just grinned down at her.

"I love you," she said, but she looked at them both.

"And we love you," Harry said, his eyes flicking over to Ron for a brief second, but Ron understood, and for some bizarre reason, not even a hint of jealousy passed through him.

"You do know I love you more than Harry does, right?" Ron joked. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, believe me, I know," Hermione said, looking up into his eyes, cheeks flushed, her own eyes still a bit wet.

"To Hermione," Harry said.

"To Hermione," Ron echoed.

"To the best friends anyone could ever have," Hermione half-whispered, and the three of them drank.

When they lowered their glasses, all three pairs of eyes were wet. Ron glanced at his watch.

"Told you we'd be back celebrating before midnight," he said. "It's half eleven now."

They spent the next hour drinking champagne, laughing, imagining Ginny's reaction when they told her their whole story... And finally, stretching, Harry stood to go to the loo and change for bed.

"So," Hermione began when Harry was out of earshot. She stared down into her almost empty glass, running her finger along the top edge as she spoke. "Want to try out the bed curtains idea?"

Ron grinned.

"Hell yes," he whispered into her hair.

She giggled as he breathed in deeply. A wave of nervous excitement passed through him as he considered what could happen tonight. He needed a shower. And to brush his teeth. And... and... he needed to see if he still remembered that charm he'd been practicing the month before Hermione had... 'died'.

For the first time since arriving at the tent, Ron wished that Harry would hurry back into the room. And to Ron's relief, Harry returned almost the moment Ron had wished him back.

"Okay, I'll be right back," Ron said, letting go of Hermione and heading for the loo without looking back.

He had never been so nervous about anything. His hands shook, legs shook...

He showered slowly, his mind wandering far too often from the simple task of washing up. When he stepped out to towel off, his body erupted in nearly painful goosebumps at the mere thought of returning to the sitting room... to Hermione.

He brushed his teeth, dressed in his undershirt and pyjama bottoms, and held his wand, as firmly as possible, pointed towards himself.

"Remember..." he said, thinking hard. And with a lingering flick, he felt a mild burn, followed by a vague tingling low in his stomach, moving further down. "Yes..." It had worked, he was sure.

Honestly, he had no idea what to expect, if she'd want to go that far. But she had _said_... He smiled, stomach fluttering, and not just from the contraceptive charm.

And then he heard her voice in the sitting room, and he gained a simultaneous boost of confidence and nervous pleasure. He opened the door and tried to walk casually back into the sitting room.

"Hey," Hermione said, standing from the couch when she saw him. "I'm just going to get showered and changed. You want to..."

She stepped right in front of him, darted her eyes towards their bunk... Ron grinned, nodding, and with one last quick glance, he saw the excited sparkle in her eyes as she brushed past him towards the loo.

Harry stood, stretched, and started to make himself comfortable on the couch as Ron headed into the shadowy corner towards the bunk beds. He reached up onto the top bunk and ripped the maroon blanket down from it, tucking in under the top bunk's mattress and letting it drape down the side, completely hiding the bottom bunk behind it. He checked for any gaps in the makeshift curtain, then pulled it aside just enough to climb in.

"Goodnight!" he called in Harry's direction as he disappeared behind the curtain. It was bloody perfect.

"'Night," Harry called back from the couch.

Inside, Ron untucked the blankets and slipped under them, leaning back against the wood ladder at the head of the bed. He was so uncomfortable in every possible position, shifting from his back to lean on his left elbow, then to his back again, jostling around noisily. He rubbed his hand over his face, his feet bouncing to release some of the nervous energy that was quickly building to barely tolerable.

He flinched and swore under his breath, startled at the sudden appearance of Hermione's face around the edge of the curtains.

"Sorry!" she whispered, giggling as she climbed into the bed

Ron shook his head as she sat with her legs crossed, facing him as she fused with the hem of her tank top. He scooted up a little higher, his back mostly against the bunk bed ladder.

They looked at each other, and looked _away _from each other, blushing for the next few seconds. Ron studied his wand in his lap, moving it between his fingers absentmindedly. He caught Hermione watching his motions carefully, eyes cast down. And when she realized he had caught her, she grin sheepishly and shrugged.

"What now?" he asked her, hardly audible.

"Silencing charm?" she asked, voice quivering a little.

"Yeah, didn't get to that yet. I figured you're better at that than I am," Ron joked, smiling as Hermione blushed a deeper red and swirled her wand over their heads.

She nodded her satisfaction of her work and began to play with her own wand in her lap.

"What now?" Ron asked her again, chuckling as she looked up at him with a grin.

"You did the curtains - excellent job by the way..." Ron nodded his appreciation of her compliment... "and I did the silencing charm. So it's your turn to do something."

By the time Hermione had finished her sentence, her voice had moved to a lower version of what it normally was, but quite a lot stronger than a whisper. For some reason, Ron felt encouraged by her steady voice, and he tucked his wand under his pillow... placed a cool palm against her warm cheek.

He sat up, much too slowly even for his own liking... but he finally found himself inches from her flushed face. But just before he kissed her, as he could tell she was waiting for him to move that last inch, he stopped.

"Your move," he whispered.

"Bloody tease," Hermione scolded.

Ron laughed but was instantly silenced by her lips crushing his. The force of her attack sent him back against the bunk bed ladder, and he felt it necessary to catch her with his arm around her back, clenching tightly to keep her in place so she wouldn't roll off of him. He slid down the wood to the pillow blissfully, parting his lips fully to allow her unlimited access.

Within seconds, he found his hand against her bare back again. It was beginning to feel like this was the _only _place that his hand needed to ever bother with being...

He froze mid-kiss for a moment as her hands moved down, down his sides, dipping under the bottom edge of his shirt. She tugged, and he didn't need another request.

In one quick motion, he flipped Hermione onto her back, rolling onto her. She moaned deeply as he kissed her again in this new position. Her hands slid up under his shirt now, following a path that was similar to his own exploration of _her _skin. He allowed just one of his fingers to trace a path down her side, feeling, excitedly, his first real contact with her breasts in the swell along the side from her position on her back... And when he reached the bottom edge of her shirt, he tugged gently, copying her motion from earlier.

She tilted her head up so his lips fell down to her chin and she was able to speak.

"I will if you will," she said, her voice much lower than usual. He stopped kissing her abruptly to look up into her eyes. And he felt a very intense jolt of pleasure and pressure very low, and he knew she had felt it against her thigh when she bit her lip, looking nervous but excited.

"Deal," he said, and he sat up on his knees in between her legs, bending both arms over his shoulders to pull his shirt up from the back, over his head, tossing it randomly aside.

He waited, watching as she breathed so heavily, her breasts pressing up into her shirt so tightly... it was becoming physically painful to watch, and he let out an involuntary groan on the third time...

And as he looked down, swallowing hard, he saw his first up close glimpse of her nipples, strained against her white tank top. God, he could practically see everything in this dim light from his position above her. Her shirt was way too see through...

She leaned up very slowly onto her elbows, then further up to a sitting position, wrapping a hand around Ron's bicep to help her up. And she must have noticed how much he was shaking from the pressure of his fists firmly against the mattress for support, still sitting up on his knees, because she grinned shyly at him and let go of him, less than a foot away now. But her chest was hidden in the shadow of his own body, and he could no longer see what he'd been able to see before...

But then she reached down to the hem of her shirt, her arms crossed, and she pulled slowly, visibly trembling... up, up... up.

She tossed her shirt to the side, looking down at the mattress to her right, breathing nervously through her mouth.

His eyes flicked down. He could barely see a thing. But just the knowledge that she was completely topless before him was enough to cause him vast amounts of discomfort... and extreme pleasure. He moved his left fist from where it was pressed into the mattress to... Hermione's leg. He had somehow forgotten that her legs were still on either side of him.

He pushed her shoulder very softly, urging her to lie back down, and she did exactly that.

He didn't even realize what he'd done until it was happening. As she leaned back away from him, resuming her position on her back lying in front of him, her body moved from shadow to the yellow glow of lamp light. And he could see absolutely everything.

He let out a startled, strangled moan which turned into a ragged breath.

She still wasn't looking at him. He needed her to look at him! He had no idea why, but he had to get her eyes on his...

"Hermione," he managed to choke out. But it didn't work. She still wouldn't look directly at him. "Hey, do you want to stop?" he asked, whispering despite the silencing charm.

Her head snapped and her eyebrows furrowed, shocked, as she looked into his eyes. Perfect. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted.

"No!" she whispered immediately. "Unless you-"

"I _know _you can't _possibly _think..." Ron interrupted, remembering what she so clearly felt earlier...

His eyes flicked down again. He couldn't help it. And the muscles in his chest seized up as he took in her perfection once again.

"Bloody hell..." he drew out, fisting his hair in his hand for a second, overwhelmed. "You are so goddamn beautiful."

She whimpered as he met her eyes again, his whole face melting as he marveled in everything, that he was even allowed to be here, to touch her and kiss her and see her...

"Come down here, Ron," she instructed, cheeks blood red, and he leaned over her without hesitation, lowering his chest to hers, freezing yet again when his bare skin came into contact with hers.

He didn't even try to hide the audible shudder that ran through his whole body at their contact. Hermione reacted in a similar fashion, moaning and clutching him tighter to her as he attempted to remain relatively weightless on top of her, elbows shaking as they tried to support his body.

"I never... _never _thought I'd get... this..." he mumbled as he kissed her jaw.

"Don't think about that now," Hermione panted. "We're both alive. We're okay."

"No... no, I didn't mean just that..." Ron muttered as he kissed her cheek, up to her temple.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes again, inches from her. Lamp light reflected in her pupils as she stared back at him.

"I never thought... _never _thought you'd want me the way I wanted you," he admitted.

"I _always _did," she whispered. "Especially... right now..."

Ron grinned shyly at her as she bent her knees up again and squeezed his hips with her thighs.

"Did you... _do _you... think about... _this_... with me... a lot?" Hermione asked timidly.

"Hell, every ten seconds!" Ron exclaimed, shaking his head.

And to his delight, she laughed, one of her heels running up along the back of his leg. Ron moaned as she tightened the muscles of her thighs, pushing him further, closer between her legs.

"Okay, enough talking," Ron groaned, capturing her lips roughly.

She gasped into his mouth and held him firmly in place on top of her as his tongue plunged into her mouth over and over. Both of her heels were now running up his legs, squeezing him tightly. And he found himself pressed much too close with far too much fabric still between them.

Just as the thought that it was time to take more off crossed his mind, Hermione's hand grabbed the top waistband of his pyjamas and tugged. He lifted his head, losing contact with her lips and watching with excitement how she tried to lift her head up to his for a second before dropping back onto the pillow, frustrated.

Without needing her to say anything else, he knew what she wanted, and he balanced on one elbow to give it to her. He slid his pyjamas off, careful not to lose the boxers just yet. That would come with a bit more blushing and a lot more hesitance. He still hadn't received _direct _confirmation that he had been right in performing the charm on himself in the loo earlier...

She could read his thoughts. She must be able to. Because the next words out of her mouth were so exactly in tune with what he was pondering, that he laughed out loud...

"I... I charmed myself in the loo earlier..."

If he was right in what he assumed she meant by this, it was the most amazingly perfect thing she could have done.

"What do you mean?" he said when he'd stopped laughed. "Charmed for what?"

"Ron! You know exactly what I mean!" Hermione hissed with indignation and a decent amount of embarrassment.

"Yeah, I think I do..." he admitted as he grinned at her, "because I did the same thing to myself..."

"You did?" she squeaked. He nodded.

"Unless I've lost count," Ron said slowly, still grinning at her, "you're losing."

"L-losing?"

But one of his long fingers hooked under the waistband of _her _pyjamas and she held her breath.

"You do it," she whispered finally.

Ron's eyes went wide as she breathed against him, breasts moving the way he'd seen them do before, but now, with each breath, they squished against his chest...

"Fuuu-" he started to moan, but he caught himself as he regained a very small amount of composure. "Okay, going," he managed to mumble as he slid down her torso, eyes on her bare flesh where it was revealed to him, slipping out from under his own naked body.

As his eyes finally landed on her flat stomach, it occurred to him what he was about to see... up close. Another ragged breath escaped his lips as he hooked his fingers on either side of her pyjamas. Her body tensed up, legs spread wide to accommodate him between them, left heel now moving up over his arse, to the small of his back.

Scooting further down the bed, he pulled her pyjamas with him, eyes unblinking as her cotton knickers were revealed inch by inch. And he recognized them. He'd packed them. He'd held them between his fingers in her flat, trying not to think about what he was holding.

Her bare thighs came next. And as he moved even further down, looking back up at her knickers from a different angle, he thought he saw something... but he couldn't really be seeing... right between her legs... a slightly darker spot...

He was going to lose control. He wasn't going to make it. As quickly as he could, he slipped her pyjamas all the way off her legs, moving her left leg down from his back so he could completely remove them. She brought her legs back together now and Ron had to crawl up on her left to move closer to her again.

"Your turn," Hermione panted, and he sensed that she was as ready for this as he was.

With a lot less hesitation than he had thought possible, he removed his boxers and tossed them aside, taking half a second to realize that their clothes were virtually spread out over the whole bed, balled up in random corners and spots, creating a lovely mess across the mattress. He felt Hermione's eyes on him, and he chanced a glance, shivering when he saw her taking interest in his newly uncovered flesh.

"Your turn," Ron said quickly, and he reached for her knickers. She gasped, held her breath, and met his eyes.

And then he pulled down.

His fingers trembled on her thighs, next to her knees, all the way to her feet. He tossed her knickers much more carefully, noting where they landed.

She was naked now. Completely. Hermione Granger was completely naked in bed with him. Holy fucking shit!

He said a lot of entirely incoherent and unintelligible things as his eyes raked over her body. But she was not going to tolerate it for long. It took her less than five seconds to reach for him, desperately trying to pull him back down on top of her.

"Please," she begged, and Ron was instantly torn away from his mesmerized worshiping of her perfect body to the next task, to whatever she wanted him to do. Anything.

And right now, as he covered her body with his, he knew _exactly _what that was. Her legs parted and were around him again in an instant. And this time, he didn't feel smooth cotton between them, no soft clothes to separate them.

His sensitive skin came into contact with something hot... wet...

"Oh my God..." he choked as she wiggled underneath him, breathing heavily, moaning with almost each breath. "Do you want me to... should I..."

"Yes," she drew out, eyes meeting his again.

And he was so relieved to hear her granting him permission.

It was the most amazing thing he had ever felt, and that was a severe understatement.

He heard himself making sounds he had never made, felt vibrations in her chest as she made some similar ones back.

"Is this okay?" he managed to ask, voice strained and brain hardly capable of rational thought.

She nodded, her head thrown back, but he felt uncomfortable about it for some reason. Wasn't it supposed to be unpleasant for her the first time? She was much too tiny...

"Liar," he said as he froze, the effort of doing so nearly exhausting him to the point of being unable to continue speaking.

"I... I..." she stammered. "I don't want you to stop," she said, and he could tell she was being honest, though he wasn't sure he understood...

"But I think I'm hurting you," he said slowly, straining to remain still as he continued to wait for positive confirmation that it was alright to move again...

"You won't be soon. Trust me..." Hermione breathed, eyes wide as she looked deep into his.

He remained still for a second longer. He knew, logically, that Hermione knew better than he did. It was her body after all. Not to mention the fact that she had probably read about a million books about this...

The comical idea of Hermione reading a sex book was all he needed to lighten up and do as she requested. Besides, she was wiggling against him now and it was far too distracting...

He moved again, once, twice...

And then he heard the most amazing sound.

His muscles seized up again with pleasure.

It had come from Hermione. And he had never heard anything like it ever before.

He moved again, and at the same place, she made the sound again, soft and high pitched. There was a gentle vibration to it as well, like he had pressed a button correctly.

"Bloody sodding hell..." he mumbled as he moved and she made the sound again. He covered her mouth with his, angled perfectly.

It wouldn't be much longer now, he was sure. He moved again and felt as if he wouldn't last past the next time, especially with her little noises getting very slightly louder with each time... and now vibrating inside his own mouth. He had to separate their lips again, panting.

"I love you..." she cried, eyes wet but lips curved into a smile as she met his eyes again.

"Shit, I love you too! So fucking much..."

She looked just slightly surprised by his language, not that she hadn't heard it before, but then she grinned and giggled as he moved once more, watching with awe as her expression changed from playful to sexy in half a second, that little sound escaping from her with at least twice its original volume now.

And he was done for. He felt slightly sorry for how quickly it had ended, but he knew from the way she was looking at him, the way she was weaving a hand into his hair, that this would not be the last time... no, this was the beginning of a pattern.

He shivered violently, sporadically, and she melted into the mattress beneath him as he felt his own body turn to useless jelly. Not trusting his own strength at this point, he rolled to his right, off of her but still clutching her body against his.

He let out a series of shaky breaths and noted that she was doing just the same thing.

"Okay?" he asked in the midst of a breath.

"Very much okay," she sighed, giggling softly as she rolled towards him, touching his forehead with her own.

He kissed her lips very gently, tenderly, and he felt her hot breath on his lips when she pulled back. One more soft kiss and she smiled broadly at him, eyelids drooping.

His lips turned up into a grin to match hers as she rolled away from him.

In some small way, he had cheated to get her back. He knew that. And this was the wonderful, perfect reward he had been given. She cuddled up against him, back to his front, and he felt every part of his naked body where it touched every part of hers. Arm around her waist, he pulled her against him, forcing her even closer, if possible.

He remembered thinking just the day before how he wanted to wake up every day with her in his arms. And now, his image of that perfect world was replaced with this one... their souls raw and exposed, her naked back against his chest...

This was what he wanted. Every single bloody day. For the rest of his life.

* * *

_**A/N:** Here is a link to the art for this chap__ter - **http: / / i1211 . photobucket . com /albums/cc430/rhrbigbang/aubrey3 . jpg** (remove spaces)_

_Thank you so much for reading! One chapter to go..._


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N:** This is the final chapter! There is a piece of wonderful art to go with it as well and I will include a link at the end of the chapter. Thanks so much, everybody, for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**June 10, 1998**

Ron opened his eyes to a complete mess of brown curls, an inch away from his face. His smile grew as he replayed every detail... but then he heard a sound from outside his little cocoon...

A light groan and the creak of couch springs. Harry. There was a long silent pause, followed by footsteps.

Listening carefully, Ron was sure Harry had left the tent. And Ron knew what he had to do, as much as he wanted to ignore it, to remain here in heaven with Hermione... He sighed and withdrew his arm from around her, pausing long enough to take in the sight of her naked back and shoulders as he searched for his boxers. Finding them finally amidst the mess of blankets and clothing, he slid them on and slipped out of bed, padding lazily towards the tent flap.

He opened the flap just barely and spotted Harry standing a few feet away, a mug of tea in his hands. The sun wasn't even up properly yet, sky still very light blue, air chilly.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron whispered thickly as he stepped all the way out of the tent, wrapping his arms around his naked body.

Naked. Great. He realized too late the implication he had surely created by standing here mostly naked in front of Harry, knowing that Harry knew full well who had slept in bed with Ron the night before...

Sure enough, Harry raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated way, and Ron could do nothing but shrug. Oh well. Harry would have found out sooner or later...

"Pretty sure you get to go first," Harry said, eyeing Ron where he stood, barefoot and shivering slightly, just outside the tent flap.

"I asked first, and you woke me up," Ron pointed out.

"Fine, I had a headache so I thought some tea and fresh air would help..." Harry paused and took a few steps back towards the tent to stand directly in front of Ron. "Now you go."

"You'll have to ask something more specific. I'm not really sure what you want me to say..." Ron trailed off, stalling.

"Let's see," Harry said, touching a finger to his chin as he pretended to think about his next words. "Oh! Well, to start off, you may as well have walked out here completely starkers."

"Yeah, you know, it _is_ a bit cold out here, now you mention it. Gonna just nip back inside-"

"Prat!" Harry laughed as Ron finally succumbed to his blush and ducked back into the tent.

He felt Harry following him as he made his way to the middle of the sitting room, past the couch.

"I hope Hermione's got a few more things on than you do..." Harry joked as he resumed his position on the couch, holding his tea mug with both hands.

"Never know," Ron said with a smirk, his back towards Harry as he reached his bunk. He chanced a glance back over at Harry and laughed when he saw the appalled expression on his best friend's face. "Night, Harry," Ron added as he ducked back into bed.

Hermione turned towards him as he jostled the mattress unintentionally.

"What's going..." she started, until she realized how exposed she was, now turning so far into him that he could see her naked breasts. But rather than linger his sights on her body, he settled next to her, feeling how embarrassed she was, though he didn't want her to be.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Harry had a headache and made himself some tea."

"Is he alright?" Hermione asked through a yawn as she pulled the covers further up over them both.

Ron snuggled against her and kissed her lightly on the ear.

"Yeah, he's fine," Ron said. "But it's not even dawn. Go back to sleep."

She let out a long breath as her eyes closed, and they were asleep before Ron could even consider Harry's hilariously shocked face for another second.

* * *

**December 17, 1998**

Six months had passed by blissfully. Things had been so wonderful between the three of them. It had been awkward around Harry the first few days, knowing that Harry probably guessed that Ron and Hermione got up to a lot more than snogging in their own little tent separated from Harry. But they'd begun to even get used to 'd spend their mornings talking, afternoons outside or by the fire as the months grew colder, and their evenings sitting together while Hermione read aloud. Ron had asked her to start reading out loud when she took up her spot on the couch in his arms with a book in her hands. At first, Harry had objected, trying to make his request as kind as possible that she not bore them all with facts and figures, dates and pointless names.

But Ron had told Harry to shut up and had insisted she read out loud to him. Harry often fell asleep in the arm chair while she was reading, and occasionally, Ron would drift off as well, but he found her voice incredibly beautiful and comforting, and he would have been content for her to read him the dictionary every night just to hear her pronunciation.

Once, Ron had even managed to go down to the nearby lake with just Hermione while Harry was taking a nap. They'd charmed the surrounding area so Harry wouldn't be able to see them, stripped off all their clothes, and spent two hours naked in the lake together.

The only mildly embarrassing part had come when they'd arrived back at the tent with dry clothes and wet hair, Harry pointing with raised eyebrows at their bathing suits which were still hanging out to dry by the fireplace from the day before.

Tonight, Ron had just finished his dinner and was waiting for Hermione to come back out of the loo. The fire was crackling, and Harry was making coffee.

Ron had no reason to get up or to cross the tent and look outside. He had no reason, yet he felt compelled to.

His eyes roamed over the dark woods beyond. The sun had mostly set, leaving a slightly lighter rim around the horizon, stars beginning to pop out overhead.

Just as Ron was about to turn back inside, something happened... something he had no clue how to explain. It seemed that his vision went out of focus for a brief moment, and during that moment, he saw something that made no sense... he saw his old room at the Burrow, and not the way it was now.

The way it had been when he was a small child. Before Hogwarts.

But the forest resumed its position at the forefront of his sights, and, shaking his head, he tried to rationalize that he was tired, groggy from dinner and the fire and Hermione...

Yes. Tired. That was all.

And he returned to his place by the fire, trying not to think about it anymore.

* * *

**January 23, 1999**

It was four in the morning, but he had to use the loo, so he crept out of bed, remembering at the last second to put his boxers back on and spare himself from having Harry discover him _completely _naked, walking through the tent.

He arrived at the loo and entered... but as he finished and began washing up, he realized something. This wasn't the loo he was used to, the one from the tent. This was the Hogwarts toilet, the one in the boys' dormitory.

"No way..." Ron muttered as he opened his eyes fully, turning around in a full circle. But it was. There was no denying it.

Suddenly panicking, Ron yanked open the door and stepped back into... the tent kitchen.

He was losing his mind, that had to be it.

And then it occurred to him, something Hermione had mentioned in passing a few days ago, something she'd read in a book... something about crossing over between different times in your life. And what had she said? That a mishap in time travel was always responsible...

It couldn't be! They'd done everything-

And then he remembered.

The morgue.

"Shit!" he exclaimed at a whisper, terrified suddenly of what was happening.

He ran to the couch and woke Harry who instantly reached for his wand and made far too much noise.

"Shhh! Shut it, Harry!" Ron hissed. "You'll wake up Hermione!"

Harry blinked himself fully awake and put on his glasses, staring up at Ron as Ron sat on the couch next to Harry.

"Something's gone wrong," Ron began slowly. "I think... I think it's because of what happened down in the morgue, when I Confunded that man..."

"What are you on about? !" Harry demanded, obviously trying to keep his voice down.

"I've started seeing... _things_..." Ron said slowly. "Just now, I was in the loo and I was sure it was the Hogwarts toilets, the ones in the boys' dormitory."

"It's the middle of the night, you were half asleep," Harry said rationally.

"No, Harry. I know what happened," Ron said, nodding. He was sure he hadn't been imagining it or dreaming. "And a while back, I had this flash of my room at the Burrow, the way it was when I was six or seven!"

"Okay, calm down," Harry urged. "It could be nothing."

"Or it could mean that you were right and I fucked up!"

"You had to, Ron," Harry reminded him. "Hermione would be dead right now-"

"Don't say that, Harry!" Ron demanded, feeling sick thinking about it, agitated from all that was happening, from fear that he had damaged their chance at making it back to February intact... and with Hermione.

"Okay, look," Harry began, thinking as he spoke, "that book Hermione read to us-"

"Yeah, I was trying to remember exactly what it said..." Ron said.

"Right," Harry continued. "Well, it said you'd know if things got serious because everything would stop making sense, you'd be confused all the time, things would start to melt together..."

Harry looked clueless about the meaning of his own words, but Ron, in some weird way, understood them.

"Is that happening to you?" Harry asked slowly.

"No, not yet," Ron reasoned. Maybe he could still make it... "But what happens if it does?"

"If it does, then we talk to Hermione, we get her to help us figure out how to fix it."

"But until then we don't tell her because she'll panic and I don't want her to think there's something wrong with me," Ron added, feeling immensely guilty for his plan to keep Hermione in the dark. "I swear I'll tell her if it starts getting serious..."

Harry nodded, and Ron knew he really did agree.

"Okay, maybe this will be okay..." Ron said, trying to reassure himself out loud.

It was another half hour before he made his way back to bed, too alert too sleep. He was hoping to catch it, if it would happen again, so he could know something... impatience building in having to wait and see...

But the day passed without another incident, and it was easy to forget, to be happy, and to pretend it was all over...

* * *

**February 15, 1999**

They were so close, and other than a few very minor incidents, Ron had gone without any more visions. He was feeling confident in things as he stood from the couch at half eleven, ready for bed.

"It's our last night here," Harry said with a half smile.

"I can't believe it," Hermione added as she stood and took Ron's hand.

"Well, better make the most of it," Ron said as he tugged Hermione's hand, trying to get her moving in the direction of the bed.

She blushed, and he grinned. He'd been teasing more openly in front of Harry about their intimate relationship, guiltily loving the way she'd blush and avert her eyes from either of them. Harry, on the other hand, usually just rolled his eyes at Ron or gave him a disgusted look.

Tonight was no different, and Harry chuckled to himself as Ron and Hermione turned their backs on him and headed off to bed.

* * *

**February 16, 1999**

Ron found himself staring up at the stars, back aching from the uncomfortable floor...

...of the Great Hall. Hogwarts. Third year. They'd slept in sleeping bags in the Great Hall under threat from Sirius Black.

If he turned his head to the left, he'd see Hermione.

He turned.

And he was staring at a sea of maroon...

...inside the tent.

He sat up, breathing erratically. He pulled on his boxers and slid out of bed, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room, locating Harry where he was sleeping in his usual spot on the couch.

"Harry," Ron said hoarsely, walking towards the couch, the fire almost completely burned out.

"Ron?"

Harry blinked up at Ron, unable to see him properly without his glasses on.

"I think we should go, to check and make sure..." Ron trailed off as Harry sat up, reaching for his glasses. "I just need to _see _us getting it right..."

"See what?" Harry mumbled. "Do _what_?"

"Tonight's the night we get the time turner, Harry!" Ron reminded him, arms crossed over his trembling body. "I need to go and check, to make sure we show up."

"You think there's a chance we won't?" Harry asked, looking shocked.

"You remember those weird visions I told you about?"

Harry nodded, but looked like he really didn't want to hear the next part of this...

"I had another one, just now..." Ron said, "a really vivid one. I have to check. I have to be sure..."

Harry nodded slowly, sighing.

"Okay. Yeah," he said, standing. "We should check."

"I'll just get dressed," Ron said, running back over to the bunk and opening the curtain wide enough to fetch his shirt and pull it on.

But seeing Hermione there sleeping peacefully, a terrible thought crossed his mind. What if this was the last time he saw her?

"No!" he whispered to himself. "It can't be." And he rummaged in his bag for clean clothes.

Determined not to let anything tear him away from Hermione again, Ron shoved one leg after the other inside his jeans. He couldn't leave Hermione without any knowledge of his whereabouts, so he took a scrap of parchment from one of her books on the bedside table, guilty when he realized she had probably been marking her place, and he scribbled out a quick note, leaving it on her pillow...

_Hermione,_

_Don't worry. Me and Harry have gone to check on something. We'll be back really soon._

_Love you._

"Are you ready to go?" Ron asked as he stuffed his feet into his trainers, grabbing his robe and throwing it over himself.

"Yeah," Harry said as he pulled his own robe on over his shirt. "Let's go."

Harry held open the invisibility cloak and Ron slipped inside, checking his watch.

"We, our old selves, should arrive at the Ministry in less than a quarter of an hour," Ron commented as Harry gripped his wrist.

"Visitor's entrance then?" Harry asked, and Ron nodded as Harry twisted them away...

They appeared in front of a familiar red phone booth, and Ron moved forward first, holding the door open for Harry. They descended slowly into the Atrium, rushing to the lifts the moment the phone booth had landed. It took less time to make their way up to the Auror offices this time.

"The loop closes really soon," Ron said, checking his watch again.

But Harry squeezed in tighter under the cloak next to Ron as they heard footsteps approaching...

"This is it, here," Ron heard himself say. They were here, the old versions of themselves... they just couldn't see themselves, both sets of them under separate invisibility cloaks.

"Is there a password?" old Harry's voice asked, out of sight but very close now.

"Yeah, remember?" old Ron replied.

Ron heard himself clearing his throat.

"Contego!" old Ron said, and the Auror office doors clicked.

"I can't bloody believe you guessed the password on the first try," old Harry whispered in awe. "Contego? Really?"

"Dunno," old Ron said, sounding shocked. "I'm a lucky git, I guess."

"Understatement..." old Harry breathed.

Harry tugged Ron's arm and pulled him through the closing doors at the last possible moment. The door shut with a light thud.

Old Harry emerged from under his invisibility cloak and lit his wand, starting Ron and Harry. They both jumped and sucked in a breath as old Ron emerged too out of thin air.

The old versions of themselves began to walk forward, and so, under the cloak still, current Harry and Ron moved forward too, following in their former footsteps. It was so bizarre to Ron, following himself through the empty corridor, seeing the way he had looked back then, so broken even as he tried to be hopeful. It was the way he walked and moved, like he wasn't especially familiar with life or the living, like he was simply a bad copy of what he once was...

"Which one is it?" old Harry whispered suddenly, barely audible.

"It's at the end," old Ron replied just as quietly.

They continued for a long while, until finally, old Ron began to slow down.

"Should be..." old Ron murmured, glancing left and studying the nameplates as they passed them slowly.

"What's his name again?" old Harry asked.

"Harold Hudgins," old Ron hissed, his eyes landing on that very name as he stopped dead in front of the door.

Harry and Ron watched as old Harry reached out to the doorknob and attempted to turn it, obviously with no luck.

"Alohomora," old Harry whispered, pointing his wand at the door. But nothing happened. Everything was going, so far, exactly as Ron remembered it...

"Nice try," old Ron breathed.

Old Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot as they both stared at the door before them.

"I remember something," old Ron said slowly.

"What?" old Harry asked.

"There's a weird lock inside... when I was here before, when I had my meeting with Hudgins..."

"But how does it work? Do you think we need a password?"

"No... no, I think..." old Ron paused and stared at the doorknob. He raised his wand to the door, lighting the bronze handle.

"I didn't do anything..." Ron whispered to Harry from under the cloak. "I was shocked it worked..."

But nothing was happening. Old Ron and old Harry stood facing the door, silent and still, waiting for... something...

"I don't remember it taking this long before," Ron whispered, watching the scene he remembered play out before him.

"But... what you're saying is that we never figured anything out last time. You got lucky," Harry half-mouthed from under the cloak. "And it just... worked."

Ron stared at Harry and they both knew. It had been them all along.

"I know what to do!" Harry hissed.

Silently, Harry waved his wand in a slow half circle, finishing the spell with a quick flick.

There was a soft click, and the door slid open.

"What did you do?" old Harry asked, stunned.

"Not sure really," old Ron said as he pushed open the door. "But whatever it was, it obviously worked."

Harry and Ron stood frozen in the hallway as they watched themselves retrieving the time turner, and, feeling incredibly relieved, Ron and Harry followed their old selves back down the corridor and into the lifts.

It was easy now. Everything was going to be fine. They reached the Atrium level again...

But it was not the Atrium at all. It was a damp, dark dungeon underground. Something made of metal, familiar, rested in Ron's hand.

The Deluminator!

He was in the dungeon at Malfoy Manor.

No...

A terrible scream echoed above him.

NO!

His fists were raw from banging them against the rough stone walls...

He turned frantically towards Harry...

...and he was standing outside, pavement beneath his feet. He looked left, right, and he saw the phone booth, the visitor's entrance to the Ministry...

"Harry?" he called tentatively, but when he received no reply, he knew what he had to do.

He spun quickly, Disapparating...

...and appearing in the middle of the tent again.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, running towards him the second he'd appeared inside the tent.

"Hermione!" Ron panted, opening his arms for Hermione to run into.

He felt confused, relieved to see her, but no clue what was happening. Time seemed elusive and... odd in its passage. How long had he been standing out there on the street?

Ron's eyes focused over the top of Hermione's head on Harry as he approached them. Harry looked stunned but relieved at Ron's sudden return.

"What happened?" Harry asked nervously.

"Did... didn't you see him... _me_?" Ron asked, brain going fuzzy.

Why was this so confusing? He couldn't concentrate on Harry's next words, telling Ron he didn't understand, hadn't seen anything...

And Ron was suddenly sure of something. Someone was there, outside the tent...

"Wait!" he shouted, running through the half open tent flap, ignoring Hermione and Harry calling his name from behind as he darted into the woods.

And the ground beneath him turned to tile. A giant troll blocked his path into... the girls' toilets?

Hermione screamed as the troll made a swipe for a restroom stall. Ron realized instantly that he had been chasing _Hermione _out of the tent all along... He had to save her.

Ron raised his wand and looked left...

...and he was balancing on his own blood soaked leg, facing Sirius Black.

"...you'll have to kill us too!"

He turned towards where he knew Hermione was standing...

...and he was watching her dance with someone who wasn't him. Viktor Krum twirled Hermione and she laughed, but when Ron blinked, her hands were on _his _shoulders instead. She looked happily shocked as he moved her around in a circle.

"It was a very nice wedding," Hermione commented, and Ron nodded, his throat unusually tight and dry...

He glanced back over to his left, towards the table where Harry was sitting, disguised as a Weasley...

...but now he was running through the woods in the dark.

"Ron, come back!" Hermione's anguished scream echoed as he felt his body being squeezed away into Disapparation, rain soaking through his clothing.

_No, I don't want to leave you! I take it all back!_

Darkness surrounded him. And he felt his life slipping away from him. Every emotion he ever felt seemed somehow wrapped up in Hermione... and they all crushed him now, weights piled on top of his useless body, wherever it was now.

_If I'm going to die, make this easy for her..._

A ringing echoed in his ears, and a strange ticking followed. The ticking seemed to slow down, and moments later, he was sure it was headed for a full stop. Somehow he knew what this meant, when he could no longer hear this sound inside his own head... It might have been the beat of his own heart or a bomb ready to go off.

He was aware of his body again for a second, and he leaned back, hoping that he'd fall somewhere safe, the only option now to try and see where it led him.

But then he realized that the ticking had stopped, and he braced himself...

He had expected an explosion, but he heard none. And instead of the darkness he had been enveloped within before, he now saw... Hermione, her face focused in front of him, though everything else around her was blurry.

"R-Ron? !" she half whispered, half cried, face coated with fresh tears.

And Ron recognized her look of unspeakable shock. He had felt it in himself the moment she'd opened her eyes in the morgue, alive when he'd spent eight long months believing she was dead.

And as Ron's eyes landed on the time turner now around Hermione's neck, he tried to sit up. But Harry's face swam into focus next to Hermione's.

"Y-You're alive!" Harry breathed, but before Ron could answer him, he was being gathered up close to Hermione, Harry's black hair flashing by as two pairs of arms embraced him. They sat in a huddle on the cold forest ground, a soft breeze whipping ginger, brown and black hair together, illuminated by the stars and moon, bright and highly visible this far away from civilization.

Three heads moved to form a triangle, all foreheads touching. Tears and cries mixed, and it was impossible to tell who made which sounds, who was breathing in which bit of air. Harry caught Ron eyeing the time turner where it dangled from Hermione's neck between the three of them, and Harry actually laughed.

"We didn't use it," Harry said happily.

Ron looked up into Harry's bright green eyes, an inch away from his blue ones and merging together.

"What were you going to do?" Ron asked hoarsely as he felt more than one hand on his own, holding on tightly.

"I would have done anything... _anything_... to bring you back," Hermione whispered.

"And so would I," Harry sighed, catching Hermione's eye and smiling.

"If you had d-died, we were going to go back again... to fix it," Hermione said.

"How?" Ron asked, awed. "We're already inside the first loop, the one we made when me and Harry went back the first time. You can't start another while-"

"We didn't care," Hermione whispered, nuzzling Ron's head with hers, the three of them still tucked inside their intimate huddle.

"You see now?" Ron asked, feeling overwhelmed by Hermione's words. "Love... makes you forget to be reasonable..."

Hermione laughed, and as her tears continued to fall, Ron heard himself laughing too. He leaned away from Harry to kiss her, smiling as she laughed against his lips.

When their lips parted again, Harry kissed both of their heads and roughly wiped his eyes with his sleeve, leaning back and pushing up onto his knees. He checked his watch and grinned.

"We're back. We made it. We can go home."

And it all made sense, the ticking Ron recalled... it had been the final countdown to the moment the loop had closed. And it had not signaled the end of him... it had saved his life. His visions, distorted memories come back to life, were over, and he knew somehow, with certainty, that they would never return.

Finally, letting it all sink in, Ron stood on slightly unsteady legs. Regaining his balance, he helped Hermione to her feet, leaning together as he draped an arm over her shoulders, following Harry back through the woods to the tent.

"How did we get all the way out here?" Ron asked, memory fuzzy.

"We found you," Hermione sniffed, "when you ran off. We followed you and..." She couldn't continue, and Ron squeezed her shoulder as they finally arrived at the tent.

The three of them made quick work of taking down their temporary home, and once they were packed, they huddled together, hands clasped.

"Ready?" Ron whispered, looking down lovingly at Hermione. She nodded her response and Ron turned them on the spot, disappearing...

With a crack, they were standing in the middle of Hermione's old flat. She sucked in a breath and let go of Ron and Harry, looking around, eyes wide. It was as she had left it, but it seemed too aged and lonely, despite a living being having inhabited it without ceasing from the day she'd left it. It was as if Ron's pain was written into every piece of furniture, every bit of carpet, and each speck of ash in the cold, empty fireplace.

For a quarter of an hour, the three of them wandered without speaking from room to room, rediscovering it. Ron had not realized how clouded his thoughts of this place had become, happiness now overshadowing the lifeless depression he had been buried beneath here before he'd left. Wordlessly, Hermione entered the bedroom, and Ron watched as she breathed in deeply.

"Everything smells like you," she whispered, looking back over her shoulder and smiling at him.

He took a deep breath for himself...

"I smell _you_," he whispered back.

She turned around to face him fully, and, moving to the foot of the bed, they locked watery eyes. Memories of this place without her, nights in her bed all alone, sprang to life, fresh and raw. And he _wanted _to remember them, to call them back to life, to fully realize all over again just how much he'd gained... how lucky he was.

And now, with her beside him, all of his black and white memories turned to vivid colour. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down so his lips barely touched hers as she spoke...

"Home," she breathed against his lips, and then she was kissing him, eyes fluttering shut.

Her hands slipped under his shirt, and she pulled it up over his head, tossing it to the floor. He worked his hands up her sides and copied her, pulling her shirt off over her head as well.

"Love you," she mouthed against his rough cheek, and he cupped her face in his hands to pull her back, to look into her eyes.

"Love _you_..." he echoed.

He pressed his bare torso to hers and she closed her eyes, smiling.

* * *

An hour later, Ron extracted himself from Hermione's warm, naked body, climbing out of bed and pulling on his boxers. Lazily, he made his way to the sitting room where he found Harry lying on the sofa in front of the fire.

"Hey," Ron said in a low, raspy voice.

"Hey," Harry said back, looking up and smiling.

"We made it. We really..." Ron choked up for a second and cleared his throat, shaking his head, "...really did it."

"I know..." Harry shuddered slightly, sitting up.

Ron sat next to him, leaning his head back.

"It's strange," Harry began as he shifted against the couch. "I keep expecting something to go wrong."

"I know," Ron sighed, "but it can't, it won't. We're safe. We've only got our futures to live now, no more past..."

Harry nodded as he turned his head right, meeting Ron's eyes.

"We'll tell Ginny tomorrow. We'll clean up the mess. And everyone will know... a version of the truth..." Ron trailed off, grinning lopsidedly at Harry.

Harry closed his eyes, his head resting limply on the back of the couch, still facing Ron.

"There are no words to thank you for everything..." Ron stopped and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

But as he watched Harry shaking his head, eyes still closed, smiling softly as he drifted off to sleep, Ron remembered... he realized... It hadn't been a favour at all, what Harry had done... and therefore, Ron never _had _to find the words to thank Harry properly.

"G'night, Harry," Ron said as he stood.

He heard Harry mumble a sleepy response as Ron made his way back to the bedroom.

Hermione was lying on her side now, bare back towards him, covers low, revealing the beginning of the outward curve of her bum. Ron smiled as he shuffled sleepily over to the bed. He climbed in behind her and slid his legs under the covers, molding his body to hers as he settled against the pillow. He dropped his left arm over her middle, fingers lightly caressing her smooth skin.

He wasn't sure if she was awake until she lifted his hand from her stomach and pulled it up between her breasts, kissing his palm.

"I love you, Hermione," Ron whispered. "Forever."

And he knew now that this, love, was the one thing that death would never be able to conquer.

* * *

_**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading and I hope you all enjoyed it!_

_Also, a huge thanks to **redheadsarehot **for this lovely piece of art to go with this chapter - **http : / / i1211 . photobucket . com /albums/cc430/rhrbigbang/aubrey22 . jpg** (remove spaces)_


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